


Adroitness & Artistry

by DistantStorm



Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Bottom Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Coming In Pants, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mission Fic, Mutual Pining, Post-Star Wars: Rebels, Space Battles, Top Eli Vanto, smut in chapter 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: The Ascendancy is not as it once was. New leaders have ushered in an age of change. Around 13 ABY, the Syndicure approves a mission to the Wah'ahaunta Nebula to protect its capital planet Yalu from an impending Grysk attack. The Yalunese people have already removed themselves from Grysk influence several years earlier, aided by former Grand Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo and the remnants of his Imperial fleet.Admiral Eli'van'to is sent as an emissary of the Ascendancy to protect the Yalunese people and establish relations with this potential gateway to Chiss space. But that is not his only mission. The Patriarch of House Mitth has also tasked him with righting wrongs that are decades overdue.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 43
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IronApollo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronApollo/gifts).



> Mild houskeeping: If you're here for the smut, skip to Chapter 3. Slightly AU, depending on what you headcanon: Faro is whale-napped with the rest of the 7th fleet, and Ezra Bridger has followed his own, separate path.

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace Gardens: Approximately 13 ABY**

»»——⍟——««

Former Grand Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo evaluated the palace gardens not as a man who cared for botany, but as a student of both art and culture. Small, delicate new blooms created a tapestry of blood red and deep violet, larger flowering trees rose from rings of milky pink halo-like blossoms. Objectively, one might call it beautiful. It was well organized and attended, each expanse of lawn perfectly manicured.

Thrawn remembered how it had been years earlier. This, though the heavy floral smell would give him a headache if he lingered near the flowers too long, was a vast improvement.

It had been nearly two years now that he and his associates had completely liberated the planet from Grysk control. He had been on this world for more than a decade before the planet's liberation, a coincidence of both help and harm. He had lost many of his people over the years, both to battle and interpersonal conflict. 

Case in point was the woman he was meeting with. Karyn Faro had been largely accepted by the overall population. She was stern and no-nonsense, a little rough around the edges, but with good training and the right amount of finesse. She had been the prime choice for High General, the leader of Yalu's military presence. She had accepted the title long before they had ever been able to liberate the Yalunese. That decision had largely been to remove herself from Thrawn's circle of influence. 

She'd thrown her commodore's insignia at him not long after the ISD-Chimaera had crashed in the southern hemisphere of the planet. Now, nearly fifteen years later, she struggled to share space with him for as many minutes.

"Our intelligence is not up to par," She began. She would not speak his name, nor would she meet his gaze unless duty demanded it. Thrawn did not hold it against her. He understood her grudge: it was well-founded. He respected her, and likely always would. He took some selfish pride in her success, though in quieter moments lamented that this world - this system - was too small for someone like her. 

But such thoughts led to others - other people, other situations, other unknowns. Thrawn did not wish to waste time contemplating that which he could not directly change. He had tried contacting the Ascendancy. This system, this planet in particular, it was a gateway. A foothold for the true enemy.

Thrawn had attempted to contact the Ascendancy to that end years ago. It had not been Ar'alani who received him, but the Patriarch of his own family and they had denounced him. Upheld his exile. Discounted his claims as those of a would-be warmonger. Mitth'urf'ianico had never liked him, never understood that Thrawn did not act for sake of personal or familial glories. He strove to act in the best interests of the Ascendancy as a whole.

If the Grysks were moving as Karyn Faro was suggesting, if they managed to retake this world, to reclaim this system, the Chiss would be in danger. Thrawn would levy whatever meager resources he had left at his disposal to make sure that did not happen.

"I tried the frequencies you gave me," She said, and Thrawn heard her unease. He tilted his head to look at her. "They confirmed our intelligence, but..."

Thrawn tempered his response. "The Ascendancy has far more resources than we do," He reminded her. He kept his questions at bay, unwilling to make her close herself off from him preemptively. Anything he could do for more information, he would.

"I believe the Grysks are planning something bigger than we're equipped to face. They didn't confirm that, but they didn't deny it, either."

"That is not unexpected," He replied, after a momentary pause. She did not rage at him for it, suggesting she had been thinking along those same lines for a while now. "Did you recognize-"

"No," She interrupted. Her voice was still neutral, subdued in a way that almost spoke of understanding. "It wasn't Ar'alani or Vanto." She looked away, toward the nearest blooming tree. "They didn’t give a name.” And hesitantly, “The data came over in Cheunh," She said, that subtle note of distrust back in her voice. Thrawn willed himself not to react to it. He deserved this, after all. He hadn't been their ally in the end. Even now, he still wasn't entirely loyal to their current cause. He would protect the survivors of his fleet who remained upon this planet to the best of his abilities, but ultimately they were nothing by comparison to his main goal. The Ascendancy must be protected. He would give his life - had given, and continued to give it, until his last breath - to see it through.

"I will translate it for you," He said. "I can begin immediately."

»»——⍟——««

**Greater Space: Planet Csilla, Capital City Csaplar Prime, Hall of Voices**

»»——⍟——««

The Hall of Voices, the meeting place of the Syndicure, was quite lovely, Patriarch Mitth'ali'astov thought. At least, it was lovely until one of those voices opened up their mouths. Opulent and regal with windows framed by stained glass motifs, both the meeting chamber and the subsequent corridors leading to multiple offices and smaller conference rooms were always awash with natural light. 

It made it seem warmer than it actually was. It was frigid in the capital city, but Thalias preferred being above ground, being able to look out and see the distant, usually half set sun, the thin ink-dark streaks of clouds. It was warmer in the true capital, located far beneath the planet's crust, but it just did not suit her.

Truth be told, she preferred not to to be on Csilla at all - and wouldn't be - if necessity hadn't demanded it. She rubbed at her temples as she slipped into her office. Her assistant waited for her - headache tablets in one hand and a mug of herbal tea in the other. She thanked and dismissed him immediately. For the conversation she needed to have, it was best there were no unnecessary parties lurking about, trying to listen in.

Not that she was attempting anything unsavory, it was just… Well, as far as favors went, this one was equal parts professional and personal. She did not want outside opinions, nor did she need them. Not on this. She had made a promise the night she faced her Trials and it was about time she made good on keeping it.

Her guest knocked politely then stepped inside the outer doors. He had an easy charisma, an approachability that drew people to him. He had taken his lumps, and, over the last decade, helped resolve civil conflict and inspire meaningful change in addition to his actual duties. There was still more to be done, but men like him had broken societal norms, opened pathways for dialogue and meaningful discussion. Thalias knew that herself and those like her in the Ascendancy's ruling families - those who honored the needs of their people as a whole - could handle it from here. 

The military had pressing matters to handle. Ones that echoed their political agenda and complemented it well. Chiss were warriors, regardless of the theatre they fought in. The man who stood before her was not a Chiss, but by her estimation, he represented the very best of them.

"Greetings, Admiral Eli'van'to," She began, rising from the seat she'd only taken moments earlier. 

He stiffened to attention, formal, but not too stiff or uncomfortable. "Good evening, Patriarch Mitth'ali'astov," He replied. His voice was so warm and melodic compared to most male Chiss, with an exotic lilt that denoted his origin. Once, others had seen it as a mark of stupidity. Now, many found it quite charming.

She gestured for him to sit and smiled at him, her eyes gleaming. "I trust you have been well?"

"I have," He agreed. "And you?" 

She retrieved wine from the chiller disguised as a cabinet, procured two ornate glasses, and poured a polite measure for them both. He looked up with a secret smile of his own. Once, a very, very long time ago, they had gotten absolutely toasted on this specific vintage, reminiscing about their separate experiences to an understanding ear. They were both too old for that now. Not in body, but in spirit.

Though perhaps that would not always be the case.

“Things here are as they always are.” He flashed a concerned look her way. “Better, of course,” She amended, noting his worry, “I was referring to the needless bickering.”

“Ah,” The admiral held his glass out in a silent acknowledgement to her before taking a single swallow. She smirked at the obvious memory its taste evoked before taking an indulgent sip of her own. “I take it you were informed about our upcoming deployment?”

“The Syndicure had to approve it.” She raised her eyebrows as she sat back down. “The Supreme Admiral also said that the source was familiar to you,” She looked at him, expectantly.

“Yes,” Eli’van’to agreed. “Outside of us, I don’t know too many other others who are well versed in thwarting Grysk takeovers.”

“Did you hear from him?”

“No,” He looked away. “I had hoped it would be him, but…” He shook his head.

She closed her eyes. “Do you think he’s alive, Eli?”

“I think so,” Eli answered honestly. “He’s too stubborn to die, if you ask me.” The lightheartedness didn’t reach her, which was just fine, it was obvious that Eli had a hard time meaning it, anyway. “The comms officer didn’t ask, but I listened to the recording of their conversation with Ar’alani. It was definitely Thrawn’s second in command."

“That does not prove his vitality.”

“No, it does not,” The admiral swirled the remaining wine in his glass with a gentle roll of his wrist. “High General Faro - that’s what she goes by now, apparently - contacted the Ascendancy in Sy Bisti. The information we sent her can only be decrypted using semi-complicated Cheunh ciphers. She didn’t balk at it.”

“Perhaps she picked up some new talents,” Thalias suggested.

“Maybe,” He relented, finishing the rest of his drink. “But I doubt it. The last time Thrawn contacted the Ascendancy, he got through to Thurfian, and we both know how it went.” His eyes blazed in a way only human eyes could, seeming to grow more colorful with his unfurling anger at the man who should have protected his family but instead attempted to send them down a path to ruin. “He’s laying low, licking his wounds. Taking care of what’s left of his fleet, and keeping an eye on a situation that could harm the Ascendancy.”

Thalias closed her eyes, as if savoring the moment. She smiled to herself, then huffed out a single note of laughter. “You know him well,” She said. “If anyone could make it this far, it is Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” 

He nodded, resolute.

“I’m sure by now you figured out I haven’t called upon you simply to drink my wine,” She said, lips neutral, though her voice hid a smile. “I would ask something of you, Admiral Eli’van’to.”

“If it is within my abilities to provide, Patriarch Mitth’ali’astov, you may count on me to see it through.”

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace**

»»——⍟——««

The transmission played twice in a perfect loop, then ended. Accompanying it had been an additional report, this time in the same language as the recording: Sy Bisti. 

“No ciphers or decoding necessary?” Military liaison Mina Hammerly asked. She looked between the High General and the magistrate, both of whom she worked for, though technically she bore no rank and was the same general advisor as the rest of the Magistrate’s council. 

“None,” General Faro said, eyes flicking to the unspoken chief advisor, their former Grand Admiral. He remained silent, as he usually did in Faro’s presence. “But the data reads worse than we had anticipated. Chiss intel suggests it's a war fleet."

"Our location was what drove them here initially," The magistrate said, hazel eyes on the report projected in front of him. "That they would come back with a larger force suggests that it is invaluable to them to have our system at their disposal."

"There is no way we can combat a force as large as they're predicting," Faro said gravely.

"Not even with production up?" Hammerly asked. It was a legitimate question. Things had been better in the last six months or so.

"We've had production running at all hours for months now. Building ships takes time and resources we simply don't have," The general countered again. 

The Yalunese military had been wiped out in the last ten years, rebuilt by the remnants of their (no longer) Imperial fleet as they slowly reclaimed the system from those compromised by Grysk forces. Likewise, the "ruling" party had been deeply changed by the Grysks influence. It had been difficult on the people, but the Yalunese were resilient. 

The rest of the advisors looked concerned, though. Aside from Thrawn and herself, the Magistrate's counsel was civilian. Hammerly found Thrawn's gaze. The Chiss stepped forward as if she had called upon him. It was only a matter of time before he was subjected to questioning, anyway. She offered him a tentative smile and received a slight acknowledgement in return.

The magistrate was wise to hold him in high regard. They had served together for a long time, and Hammerly was grateful. He didn't take charge like he used to, but he still commanded the attention of the room when he spoke.

"If they are willing to deploy forces to aid us," Thrawn began smoothly, "They understand that the system is in an advantageous location for our mutual enemy."

The magistrate held out a hand and all eyes flew to him. His voice was warm, but grizzled by age. "According to the missive, we will expect them in seven days' time. They project an attack will occur in ten to fifteen." He turned to Thrawn. “How accurate do you believe-”

“Accurate,” Thrawn confirmed.

“Then let us prepare for their arrival.” The magistrate rose. “General, I expect our forces to be ready when our prospective allies arrive. You will greet them.”

“But, your excellency-”

His eyes narrowed, their yellow-green color more obvious now, _“You_ are the leader of our forces. _You_ must be the emissary of our people.” He did not say, _’Thrawn is needed here. You did not want him. You will not ask this of him, not now._ ’

His words were enough to rebuke Faro. Hammerly was grateful for the old man’s protectiveness of Thrawn. Thrawn believed he deserved her malice, but the truth was that they were all complicit to a degree. Maybe he had done some other things, but Hammerly couldn’t say she wouldn’t do horrible things to protect the people she cared for. Thrawn was not a bad man. Misunderstood, certainly. 

She knew he talked to the magistrate. Perhaps not in detail, but more than he talked to her, for sure. She knew he had been exiled after they’d made it here. He had told her. He had made contact and they had shut him out. An explanation had not been offered, and she had never asked. Still, she knew it hurt him, even though he’d continue to fight for them. Some might see it as divided loyalties. Maybe he hadn’t told the magistrate that he was still beholden to his duty to his people, but the old man knew things without being told. He was a different kind of smart than Thrawn. Charismatic, open. Like a grandfather or a kind uncle, proud and protective of his children. Equal parts stern and supportive. 

Magistrate Avard Delcklin was the kind of man she envisioned when she thought of what an emperor ought to be. 

Things may not have gone how she had planned. And there were days when all of them felt the acute loss of what they had once had, back home. But those days were fewer and fewer as time went on.

Thrawn always left these meetings quickly, unless Avard asked for him. Naturally, he didn’t, instead pulling Faro to his side. His eyes met hers and she nodded, already aware of what course she’d take. Thrawn moved too quickly for her to make it seem casual now, so instead she strode briskly out of the room, let the door close behind her, and called his name. 

When he turned, she smiled at him. He slowed his pace for her to keep up. Her right knee hadn't been the same since the crash all those years ago, and he had always been mindful of his people.

"So," She began, keeping her gaze trained on the wide, open-air corridors, the tapestries that billowed in the gentle breeze. Yalu was temperate. Humid in the afternoons, with spotty rain showers that lasted either minutes or days with no in-between. It was the kind of place that encouraged one to stay up late and enjoy the cool air. "Lunch?"

"I am fine, Mina."

It had taken nearly two decades of serving together for him to actually call her by her first name and _only_ her first name, on occasion. He wielded it like a weapon, the bastard. "All due respect, sir? I didn't ask that."

He looked down at her, calculating. He didn’t discourage the honorific like he normally did. Bigger mynocks to fry, then. "Your concern is unwarranted."

It wasn't, but she knew she wouldn't beat him in an argument about it. "They know you're here."

"They do."

"So?"

"It is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant my ass," She said back, voice going stern. He, of course, led her to the palace kitchens despite never agreeing to lunch with her. 

They were cordial to the staff, being served immediately and with the usual casual fanfare befitting of their stations. Thrawn picked like a bird, and it was obvious to Hammerly that she was onto something.

"The first communication was sent entirely in Cheunh," He said. "Faro asked me to translate."

"I remember, you blew off a meeting." She tilted her head, inviting him to continue.

"The response was also sent in Cheunh."

"And?"

"I reviewed the data before Avard called us. There is no indication of whom they are sending. If it were Ar'alani, I would know."

Hammerly shrugged. "I'm sure Ar'alani isn't the only capable commander in the Ascendancy."

"Of course not," Thrawn retorted waspishly. He seemed to recognize his temper and reign it in, but Hammerly waved him off. She'd rather see him pissed than withdrawn. "But not all Chiss are as… _invested_ in affairs from without. Securing this system may be temporarily advantageous, but a more permanent agreement would benefit both parties."

"That's what we'll push for."

"The immediate threat is still more important. They will protect us, to protect themselves, but the Ascendancy’s foreign policy-"

Mina shrugged. "I'm sure the old man will be able to charm whomever the Chiss send."

"Ideally," Thrawn supposed, but he didn’t look convinced. Mina took care not to draw attention to that, lest she encourage his more destructive behavior. 

Instead, she asked the real question. "Will they take you back?"

Thrawn's expression shifted. It had taken her so long to learn to read those slight changes. She saw the glow of his eyes dull slightly, extremely difficult to notice in daylight and knew he was closing himself off. Damn it, she thought. 

"I have been exiled twice," He said. "There is no going back."

Coddling him was out of the question, and she refused to pity him. Frankly, if the Chiss _didn't_ want him back, they were a bunch of big blue idiots. Some iteration of this must have played across Hammerly’s face, because the Chiss in front of her graced her with an amused half-smile before tucking back into his meal. It wasn't his lips she'd been looking at, though. It was his eyes. They glowed a little brighter, with gratitude.

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Orbit**

**Time Until Grysk Incursion: 5 Days (Est.)**

»»——⍟——««

"Your shuttle is ready, Admiral Ivant."

The admiral rose from his command chair without preamble. "Send an arrival message to our hosts," He said. "Then get me all of the captains for their final briefing."

It was mostly for their peace of mind, the final briefing. Their plans were solid, and their scouting parties would be more than sufficient in alerting them to enemy activity. Even going a bit overboard, as he was sure he had - that was kind of the point, after all - the Chiss way was to fret and fuss over every minute detail. He did his best to rein in his captains, but there were always a few who liked to micromanage, and basked in the drama. 

Those captains were dealt with quickly. They either learned to hold their tongue in his presence, or asked for a different assignment. Supreme Admiral Ar'alani loved discussing those situations. There had been a great many of them in the beginning.

"Sir, we're ready to depart, just say the word."

"Senior Captain Tiphoni," He said crisply, and his second inclined their head. "The bridge is yours. I expect check-ins-"

"Every four hours to your questis per protocol, and a comm for any level three or greater concerns."

"Thank you," Ivant said, eyes warm. "I'll be in touch."

His bridge had been hand-picked, one he'd carefully cultivated over the years. Tiphoni was the child of one of his former adversaries who had fallen in with him during the Ascendancy's rather secretive civil war as part of a rebellious streak. She was stern, seemingly strict, but very good with the Navigators and their crew.

Part of him wanted Tiphoni with him. She needed more experience planetside, dealing with foreigners. Both he and Ar'alani agreed that she would be ready within the year for promotion to commodore, but she had more to learn before he sent her off to her first true command. Maybe after they had handled the threat, he could bring her down for the negotiations. He saved that thought for later reflection and followed the lieutenant who had readied his shuttle to the hangar.

Everything he had read about the planet suggested that it was backward. That was the Chiss way, to assume most other civilizations were beneath them. That was half the reason he had the info packet sent as he had, and requested certain answers in return. The Yalunese were not backwards, they were rebuilding. From the viewport of his shuttle, the citadel gleamed in the light from the nearby sun. It was massive, a sprawling city surrounded by farmlands and industry. It was impressive, considering it had not been long since the Grysk influence on the system had been thwarted. The system had been in a state of chaos before that. These people were survivors.

The Yalunese were a human species. Their native language was Yalunar, but the open comms had Sy Bisti, Tarja, and Basic in varying degrees.

In the cockpit, he could hear the pilots grumbling about the ambient temperature readings off the sensors. If they thought it was too hot here, he hoped they never saw a Lysatran summer. He looked around. He had allowed eight of his officers to come with them, most of whom were specialized in an area he would need to evaluate the Yalunese on. One, however, would be mostly at his side for the duration.

Mid Commander Daritzi reminded Eli a bit of himself, at least in the self confidence department. He, like Eli had, needed opportunities to prove himself. Eli could give him that. The captain had earned it.

“It looks rather unlike what I read,” The mid commander murmured quietly. Around him, the rest of the officers nodded, all straining to look out the viewport of Eli’s personal shuttle.

“Rule number one-” He began. 

A chorus interrupted him, voices high and low. “Make your own conclusions.”

Ivant rolled his eyes, though there was little malice behind it. “In this case, it’s ‘assume the intel is outdated _and_ xenophobic,’ but I suppose drawing your own conclusions works,” He crossed his arms. “I trust you all remember your training about how to deal with foreign dignitaries?”

“You definitely _don’t_ want us using that,” Daritzi replied. “Do you, admiral?”

“What do you think, mid commander?”

Daritzi was a medium-tall man with a smooth, ageless face. “I think that it doesn’t really match up with new age policies, so we should skip it.”

“Indeed,” Eli agreed. “We are their guests.”

“Even if they need us?”

The admiral’s eyes darkened. The question had come from a younger officer, a newly minted lieutenant commander. Her red eyes were wide, curious, not condemning. He made sure to hold her gaze, to pressure her into honesty in the event that she was holding back. She met him head on.

“Just because they need us, does not mean that we need to utilize their system any less.” He looked around the room. “We’re not trying to conquer these people or hold their territory. We’re here to build an alliance.” He gestured to the lush greenery outside the window, the farms and jungle and city all growing larger as they descended. “Having a stable system in the Reaches that we can travel through peacefully is exceedingly beneficial. Having an ally who will keep us apprised of external threats without having to deploy tracers or set up temporary waystations?”

“I see,” The lieutenant commander nodded her head. “That sounds invaluable.”

“That’s the idea. Don’t get me wrong, Lieutenant Commander Afsayja: we cannot control, nor can we protect the entirety of the Chaos. But those in fringe systems, within our understood borders should be treated with both dignity, and respect.”

“I understand, Admiral Ivant.”

Eli smiled, leaning back against the headrest of his seat, and letting the ambient conversation resume. “Very good, lieutenant commander.”

The shuttle touched down outside the military campus not eight minutes later. The sky was painted with streaking clouds burning off in mid-atmo, the air warm and trending toward humid, but not oppressively so this early in the day cycle. Eli can already sense the uncomfortable shifting of his crew behind him: his crew who viewed anything above twenty-five centigrade (or twenty, with humidity) to be hell, manifested. 

The ramp door finished its transition, finally kissing the ground. His officers control themselves despite their first taste of the weather, and Eli knew they’d adapt. Chiss were far more capable of thriving in extremes than they seemed to think. Mid Commander Daritzi stepped to his left, the taller man’s shoulder coming about an inch above his own. He looked down at Eli, nerves visible in his expression. “Sir?”

“On your best behavior,” He reminded them patiently, like a father to his children. They hum back in varying degrees of agreement, from the most formal - the new lieutenant commander and their pilots - to indulgent and begrudging acceptance from his most senior staff. Daritzi inclined his head, having fallen in the middle. Not too familiar, nor too formal.

Two of his senior staff lead the group from the shuttle. They do not have weapons drawn, but both commanders are his fastest draws. While he also has a weapon at his hip, they are not here for a fight. Still, to be entirely exposed, to trust explicitly so early on is hardly acceptable protocol.

With that handled, and no obvious threats in sight, Eli squares his shoulders, shifting from what is commonly his teaching stance - relaxed, shoulders rolled back, comfortable - to the one that all admirals in the Chiss Fleet use to insinuate they mean business. 

The effect on his officers was immediate, and Eli was struck, yet again, by how proud he was of them. They wait at attention, ready to make their assessments. Eli can't help wondering how this will go, now that the situation is before him. His concern came and went in the two strides it took to step outside. 

Karyn Faro stared at them, at him, flabbergasted.

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Military Complex**

**Time Until Grysk Incursion: 5 Days (Est.)**

»»——⍟——««

"You got old," High General Karyn Faro said, and refused to mentally kick herself for the way her words sounded. That probably wasn't the greatest greeting - it certainly wasn't the most appropriate, considering - but Eli Vanto - ELI _kriffing_ VANTO - threw his head back and laughed, the different shades of brown in his hair illuminated by the sun. 

"I'm not the only one with a couple grays," He quipped back, and stepped forward to greet her. When they shook hands, his grip was firm. “It’s good to see you, Faro,” He said, instead of whatever recycled, politically-correct flattery he might have used if she had reacted differently to his presence.

“We didn’t think you or Ar’alani got the message,” She said. “You didn’t say.”

“We were notified,” Eli replied, “But it was better to let neutral parties vet what you sent us. Anyone else around?”

“Roughly forty-thousand of the fleet,” She said. “Far cry from the original numbers, but,” She waved a hand, refusing to discuss that further. There were more pressing matters than rehashing the last fifteen years. “Hammerly’s the military liaison to the magistrate, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you. Most everyone else was probably after your time.”

“And-”

“He’s here.”

Vanto’s eyes narrowed, but he wisely remained silent. Faro had taken care to keep her voice neutral, but she didn’t doubt he understood that things were different, considering the lack of the Chiss on the tarmac. 

“I’m at your disposal, High General,” He said, before the silence could grow uncomfortable. “What language do they prefer us to speak?”

“Basic is fine,” She said, waving him to follow her. She, like Vanto, had her own forces who had come out to assess and negate any potential threats. “Your people can use Sy Bisti, if-”

“We speak Basic,” Said Vanto. “That’s fine.” He turned to his people, who nodded as one. “Anything I should know about before we get started?”

Faro shook her head. “Everything was in the data we sent.”

“Good.” Vanto gestured for her to lead the way, so she did. 

His officers were given refreshments and led on a tour of the facilities - the military complex itself, the training building that had once been a university, and the shipyard where they were working double time to try and produce a more adequate fleet. Faro did not want to accompany them with Vanto, to listen to him pick apart their failings in logistics and supply chain management. She wanted his opinions - he would help them, that she was sure of - but she didn’t want it at the cost of looking like a fool in front of his men.

Instead, she led him to her private office, closed the door behind them, and gestured for him to sit.

It was still surreal when he sat across from her desk and nodded his approval when she pulled out whiskey in a crystal decanter. “So,” She said. “Obviously you’re doing well for yourself,” She began, shoving a couple fingers of amber liquid his way.

He took it, taking a small, cultured swallow. Surreal, her mind reminded her. He didn’t move like the Wild Space kid she remembered, either loose and casual or nervous and tense. He was relaxed. Comfortable. He still flushed under her scrutiny, and that was both surprising and familiar. She knew that Chiss could see in the infrared. It seemed like the kind of thing they’d look down on him for.

“I could say the same for you,” He agreed. “You’ve been busy.”

She shrugged, leaning back, unwilling to fall onto formalities now. They could save it for the magistrate and the counsel. She was too old to put on airs for days at a time. “That’s one way to put it.”

He inclined his glass toward her. “Well, they couldn’t have picked better,” He said, and offered her a smile. She met him with a more subdued one of her own.

“How karked are we, Vanto?”

“You’re not. I wouldn’t be here if we weren’t going to hold them off.”

“You’ve got five ships.” She’d scanned them as they dropped from orbit. They might not have a large military presence, but they did have top of the line equipment. “Our navy is barely a fleet with all hands on deck. Will it be enough?”

“Yes,” Vanto assured her, dark eyes completely calm, like they weren’t expecting the enemy to come out of hyperspace to assault their planet any day now. “Our information on their presence and operations is better than it was last time we fought them together. Trust me.”

Faro wanted very much to trust him, she really did. She was just... leery of the Chiss as a whole. Maybe that wasn’t fair, but Thrawn’s deception had cut deep. Back then, she had ignored the signs. And one of those signs had been the man who sat before her now. 

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace**

**Time Until Grysk Incursion: 5 Days (Est.)**

»»——⍟——««

Thrawn reached for a blaster at his hip that was no longer there, a reflexive, knee-jerk reaction to the way Hammerly flew into the consular chambers. She paused, bent in half, panting and rubbing at her bad knee for a long moment, unable to speak.

Magistrate Delcklin was on his feet in an instant, his usually hidden strength and agility on display as he stepped down from the dais. “What is it, Mina?”

She raised her head, cheeks glowing brightly in the infrared, and looked first at Avard, then at Thrawn. “Vanto,” She said, holding his gaze. “It’s Vanto.”

Avard took her by the elbow, motioning with a jerk of his head for one of the aides to get a medic as he guided her toward the dais. Thrawn met him at the base of the steps, and Hammerly grumbled as he ducked under her arm and the two men hoisted her up to her usual seat beside Thrawn.

“I would’ve been fine, you know,” She groused.

“I am sure,” Avard said, just short of placating. “But I did not want you hyperventilating before you explained yourself.

The magistrate was an interesting man. He had been an insurgent commander, second in command at the time that Thrawn and his people had joined the fray. His wife was a royal. She had been compelled by the Grysk forces, the lynchpin for many of their plans.

Thrawn had gone with him, during the infighting, when they infiltrated the former royal palace. Avard Delcklin had killed his wife quietly and without fanfare, toward the end of the war. There had been no saving her from the torture she had endured. Delcklin was a charming man, and few ever saw the sadness he kept hidden, the grief he tucked away for his private contemplation, to bolster his resolve to never let such an atrocity happen again.

He was a leader worthy of respect… and a friend. As Thrawn knew of his past, so too did Avard Delcklin know that Thrawn once had a human protege who was not their high general. But because he was a friend, he did not seek Thrawn's immediate input or reaction. He focused on Mina Hammerly, who had run all the way here. Surely that had not been the matter worth aggravating her injury.

That thought prompted this question."Vanto and Ar'alani?"

Mina shook her head. Her hands were no longer pressed to her knee, or, more alarmingly, her chest. She looked away from the medics who had scrambled in, and the pain and nerve relaxer they would inevitably inject.

“No,” She said carefully, cheeks still rosy. “Just Vanto.” Her lips looked like they wanted to quirk up into a smile, but the look changed to one of instant-anguish before she took a breath. “I really ought to suck it up and get a synth-knee,” She said, when Avard patted her hand like the kindly grandfather-figure he aspired to be and returned to his seat. 

“What does this mean for us?” He asked them.

“Based on the threat,” Thrawn began, mind racing as he contemplated possibilities, “The Chiss would not send forces to their death willingly. The sensors picked up four warships and one larger flagship.” He looked over Hammerly’s head at Avard. The old man’s eyes gleamed knowingly, understandingly, and Thrawn could not hold that gaze. Nor could he focus on his former protege. That was not important right now, though - he forced himself to focus on what mattered, there would be time to reflect on the finer details later. “I cannot imagine they would come here if they did not take us seriously.”

“They take us seriously,” Hammerly said. She looked up at Thrawn, still hovering beside her chair on the dais. “Faro looked like she’d swallowed a sour jarpa fruit, you know how she is when someone runs with what she thinks is her plan,” The woman smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s why I’m going to take point with the old man on this one,” She said, warm fingers grabbing the hand Thrawn had rested on the arm of her chair. She squeezed them in what Thrawn had long since learned was meant to be a show of solidarity or support. “Faro will ruin this with her grudge.”

“You don’t know that,” Avard said, tentatively.

“Vanto is as loyal to Thrawn as Thrawn is to him,” She looked up at the Chiss, a stern expression crossing her face. “And don’t you dare argue me on that.”

That was inappropriate, Thrawn thought. Truth or not, it was inappropriate. And yet, Avard stroked his bearded chin, smoothing the white hairs there as he considered. Hammerly’s statement had seemed to solidify something for him, but his demeanor, posture, and expression had not shifted at all to indicate discomfort or distrust. Thrawn knew those tells, and these were not them. 

“Thrawn will be present for the negotiations. But I am amenable to letting you take point, Mina.” He looked at Thrawn. “What do you think?”

“Faro will not mean to jeopardize anything, nor do I truly think she will,” Thrawn said. The Chiss - Vanto - they would all be professional. Their objective would be top priority. “However…” He trailed off.

“I understand,” Avard said, and did not make him explain.

“I am still an exile. To insert myself would be inappropriate, regardless.”

“As my chief advisor, I would take offense to anything said against you,” Avard reminded him, his multi-colored eyes glinting fiercely. “Likewise, I will trust your judgement. If there is anything that concerns you, I would ask that you speak up.”

Thrawn nodded silently, and it was decided. He hadn’t realized Mina had interlaced their fingers until she squeezed them tightly once more and let go. Thrawn had never expected this path, had never wanted anything even remotely close to it. What he had gained here was like the flowers that bloomed in the gardens. The palace had been built over the remains of the old one, a place of hardship and tragedy and regret. But it had been charged with resolve and duty and purpose, things Thrawn had found again, in a similar cause. He would never rejoin his people, and he had accepted that fate. 

He had found solace in knowing he was not entirely alone. Purpose in acting as a protector of one of few gateways into Chiss space. Duty both to his goals, and the select few he considered his friends. He could live the rest of his life knowing he had done the best for his people with what resources he’d had.

»»——⍟——««

Faro was exactly how Eli had remembered her in a lot of ways. Stubborn and sharp, resolute. Loud. But time had made her bitter, had left her edges jagged and frayed. He understood that. She had been enlisted for almost as long as he’d been alive. Regardless of whom you served, once you devoted yourself to that life, you just didn’t leave it. You couldn’t. Not really.

Sometimes, that was more than a single being could take.

Chiss knew that. They’d seen it, first hand. They were not perfect, regardless of Eli’s first impressions of their species. They, like humans, were diverse and unique. They had their own quirks, biologically and emotionally speaking. Still, his people hadn’t been prepared for Faro, or for the revelation that Eli had served with her - and technically under her, considering his rank at the time - for several years.

He’d seen several others at the military complex who held themselves like Imperials. Now, so far removed from that lifestyle, he saw how the duty element had been second to others. Politics or family dynamics. To an extent, that was the same in the Chiss military, specifically with the families. But the Chiss had come to understand that duty to the Ascendancy was the same as duty to their families. When it came down to it, when lines were drawn, that their duty to their people, as a whole, had to trump any duty to their individual families and their families’ motivations. 

Chiss held pride in their stance. Pride in their people as a collective. In their families that had chosen them, whose trials they had passed or in those that had shaped them from their birth. Eli, who was none of those things, who knew no family but the Ascendancy as a whole, held the same pride. Pride in those beneath him who struggled to understand their place, who slowly but surely learned that their family and the Ascendancy was not so different at its core.

Those here who had once served the Empire were still learning their place in the galaxy as it was now. They were slowly sifting through the pieces of them that had been Imperial and were learning how to move forward. It was a beautiful thing. 

The Chiss had learned it not ten years before. Eli had no doubt these people would also learn to keep moving forward, to embrace and accept this turn in their life path for the blessing it was.

The Empire was no more. And yet, they were still standing. It was something to be proud of. He hoped, someday, that they might look at it that way, instead of contemplating the life they had lost. Eli knew better than most that it was no way to live.

He and his officers had been escorted to the palace, a beautiful, new, but modest by palace standards building whose public area lacked windows. The late afternoon crossbreeze eliminated the need for cooling units in the larger spaces.

Faro looked comfortable here. In her element. It was a good look on her. As if she sensed the direction his thoughts had taken, she turned her head to look into his face. “Avard Delcklin is our magistrate,” She said, stopping outside a set of closed doors. “He and his council of advisors make the majority of political decisions for the people of Yalu.”

“I see,” Eli replied. He had read as much, but her confirmation didn’t hurt. “Are you coming with?”

“I have a few moments to spare,” She supposed, nonchalantly. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, recognizing signs of tension in her stance. Nodding to the sentries on either side of the closed chambers, the large, ornate doors to the deliberation chamber opened.

The dais were five steps off the ground. Not too haughty, but not so slight that they felt insignificant. Eli identified Magistrate Avard Delcklin right away. He sat in the middle of the row of chairs atop the dais. There were seven in total, six of the seats occupied, though the magistrate and his councilors rose the moment he stepped into the room. 

“Welcome,” Delcklin said. 

From behind his back, Eli heard a fond-sounding huff and a muttered, ‘here we go,’ in Cheunh. No doubt one of his senior comms officers. Not that he was wrong. It was showtime.

Eli smiled, stepping past Faro and only stopping once he reached the bottom of the dais. “I am Admiral Eli’van’to of the Chiss Ascendancy,” He introduced himself in the formal way, holding the magistrate’s green-gold gaze. Each word was enunciated with purpose. “Thank you for receiving us,” He added, with a practiced, respectful nod.

“It is our pleasure to receive you,” The magistrate responded in kind, motioning for his council to sit. He descended the dais until they stood on equal footing and extended a hand. Eli clasped and shook it. For an older man, facial features lined by age, his grip was firm and did not shake, and his eyes were more vivid and intense up close. He was a smart man, Eli could tell. “As I am sure General Faro informed you, I am the magistrate here. Avard Delcklin. Please, feel free to call me Avard.”

“You may call me Ivant,” Eli replied, concluding the more banal of the formalities.

“Your core name,” Avard replied, tone pleasant enough. “I was not certain you would have one, considering.”

“Yes,” Ivant said, “You are well informed.” The admiral did not ask how he knew. Instead, his eyes scanned the dais over the man’s shoulder. Three men were seated there, but none of them were Chiss. And the woman was as Faro had said. Hammerly. He inclined his head to her specifically and she nodded back, eyes bright. 

Delcklin went about the usual diplomatic formalities. They had been treated to their tour of the military complex before their arrival to the palace, so all that was left was to set up the precedent for discussion of the necessary issues: they would be deferred until after a late evening meal, which meant that negotiations would probably start over the third course and carry on until someone on the council was too inebriated to follow and requested they begin discussions the following morning at break of day. 

It wasn’t until they were dismissed, Delcklin shaking his hand again before ascending the dais, that Eli caught movement in the corner of the room. He didn’t move his head, but he let his eyes trend left, to the line of pillars there and the glow of red eyes in shadow.

There he was, Eli thought, that feeling of relief stark and obvious, like a breath of fresh air or a cool wind. He let that feeling show in the half smile on his face, spun on his heel, and let the sentries lead him and his men to what would be their quarters for the duration of their stay.

The seat to the right of the magistrate had been empty. There was no doubt to whom it belonged.

»»——⍟——««

Dinner was the sort of stately affair it always was, dependent on their company to set the tone, dictate the overall direction.

Avard was smiling, his shoulders level but without tension. He seemed charmed, by the human admiral, leaning forward attentively. Vanto, no, _Ivant_ was generous with his smiles, but not overzealous. He was not selling his investment in Avard's people or planet. He was active in it, genuine in a way that made Thrawn ache and welcomed the magistrate to trust him.

He looked different, Thrawn thought. 

His hair wasn’t longer by much, but errant strands of silver caught in the warm lights of the banquet hall. His eyes were the same color - human eyes didn’t change color, but they crinkled on the outside corners. His cheeks were darker, the shadow of stubble coming in giving him a more rugged look that would have seemed unkempt on most others, yet Vanto wore it much like he wore his hair - casual, but contained. He was older. He didn’t present himself like a bright-eyed young man, eager to learn and grow.

His first impression was sharp. Understated confidence tempered with charisma. Intelligence. Thrawn could get lost in his observations. The conversation had not shifted in his direction, giving him ample time to evaluate and assess the man in his pristine white tunic, who only halted in his conversation with Avard when there was difficulty with translation further down the long table. 

None of the Chiss officers were the stern, straight-laced, expressionless types he expected. He'd caught two of them staring, both of whom offered him tentative smiles, apologetic, but curious as they carefully sampled the planet's cuisine. 

"And then," The man directly to Ivant's left (Jihda’rit’zinen - _Daritzi_ , he had called himself) reached for Vanto's elbow, delicately interrupting his superior’s conversation. He spoke in Cheunh, then paused long enough for Ivant to laugh.

 _"Ivant-Abcesit,"_ He said, teasingly chastised, face glowing as he dropped the formal, possessive _Ch_ at the beginning of the Chiss word for admiral. The rest of his words were soft. An explanation, looking for another word to best relay a memory to his audience. 

"You're telling _that_ story? We're trying to make a good impression," Ivant's brows crept up his forehead, but his lips curled in a satisfied smile. "The word you're looking for doesn’t exist in Basic," His accent, the Wild Space lilt he'd spent all their time together hating for how others would perceive him for it, was pressed into each word, curling it warmly. He was confident in it. He was radiant in a way Thrawn had never expected. He wanted to bask in it. " _’_ Ancestral honor’ is probably as close as you’d get without losing context," He explained, then narrowed his gaze "I better not hear you trying to translate my cursing at the Syndicure," He added in Cheunh. "That was one time."

"Yes, admiral," Daritzi said respectfully, while someone further down shifted in a way that suggested something otherwise.

“Commander Safrel, I heard that.”

“I said nothing, Admiral.”

“You were thinking it loud enough for the rest of us,” Ivant retorted sarcastically, earning a laugh from the council member seated beside Thrawn, Mina Hammerly directly across from him, and Avard to his left. The Chiss officers showed their humor in a far more subdued manner, but it was clear they were used to this, if the way their eyes shone with amusement were any indication. It was not put upon for the sake of their company. Ivant’s posture was wide, leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, arms out at his side. He looked bigger, large in a way that a leader tended to.

Yes, Eli’van’to commanded this room and he knew it. He did so passively, not exerting pressure like a younger, less experienced officer would. He was what, forty-five, forty seven galactic standard? The calendars did not match up, and no matter how he tried, days (weeks, months, years) were lost. 

“If it would not be too much to ask,” Avard cut in as the laughter faded in that polite way it always did at these sorts of events, “I find myself curious how it is that a human found himself in this position.” He gestured at his guest to make the point.

To Ivant’s credit, the question did not surprise him. He didn’t look at Thrawn, as Thrawn thought he would, to try and gauge how much Thrawn had spoken of him, if at all, He had not tried to gain Thrawn’s attention or speak to him either, either - he had not since their eyes had met in the consular chamber, hours earlier. Was it a political motive? Was it personal? Thrawn knew their last meeting had been less than satisfactory. Mina had chided him about it. He had turned the moment over and over in his mind until it became a smooth stone, considering his lack of consideration for Vanto’s needs against the gravity of his mission. If it had all been lost, anyway, he could have-

“It’s a long story,” He said, and Thrawn blinked away from the left side of his face to note that all of the warriors had stopped speaking, waiting attentively. 

Respect and admiration could not be bought. Loyalty could be, under certain situations, if one was a certain kind of being, but the loyalty of a Chiss was not so. A Chiss held their loyalties so very close to their chest, to their most private heart, and there were no forces in the galaxy that Thrawn had encountered that could unnaturally change that loyalty.

These Chiss were loyal to their admiral.

Ivant reached for the goblet of wine he’d been given, swallowing a small pull of the effervescent beverage before he inclined his head. “I had been sent to the Ascendancy, as you well know, by my former commanding officer,” He said. “I was to be kept out of sight, to fulfill the objective I had been given.”

“And we all know that things do not know the way they are supposed to,” Avard said sagely. Around them, another course of the meal had been served. Ivant picked delicately as he acknowledged the Magistrate.

“They do not happen as we expect,” Ivant acknowledged. “I would argue it is impossible to determine the way something is supposed to be but instead that things often test the limits of our preparedness and adaptability.”

Avard chuckled, eyes glittering in silent amusement. “Yes, I suppose you are correct. “

His words were worn, well told. Not his first diplomatic mission, then, Thrawn thought. “I made commander about a year into my time in the Ascendancy, then captain four years after that, following a stint of small commands.” 

“An upstart, then.”

“Good mentors,” Ivant said, and still his eyes did not flick Thrawn’s way. Avard’s did, though. In response, Ivant’s cheeks darkened in deeper understanding of the magistrate’s knowledge of the situation overall. His cheeks warmed, but only to the subtlest glow in the infrared, not a heat visible to the naked eye. Not true embarrassment, but acknowledgement. Interesting. “Commodore was two years later, and it lasted a year.”

Avard, patient now that he’d made some preliminary considerations - all wrong, but pointed, to coax out the information he wished to know - gestured for him to continue.

“Wars do not wait for us to be ready,” He said, and there was an edge there.

“No, Admiral,” Avard agreed gravely, “They do not.”

Like recognized like. Ivant inclined his head. “My cumulative years of experience between the Galactic Empire and the Ascendancy - in command, but mostly in service overall - saw my promotion to fruition.”

“That,” A commander called from further down the table, “And his uncanny ability to hold our political system accountable for itself with obscure mathematics-”

“I regret teaching them my native tongue,” Ivant whispered conspiratorially to Avard, whose eyes lit up with glee. Thrawn looked between Avard, Ivant, and the commander. Such displays were woefully inappropriate for such affairs, and yet Ivant had not discouraged such a thing.

“Now _that_ is the kind of tale I’d like to hear!” Avard said, with all the charm of a wizened grandfather. “Your experiences must be unique.”

Ivant shook his head. “I fear their embellishments-” He broke off, advising his officers to behave themselves in sharp Cheunh that did not lose its meaning despite his latent drawl, “Would paint me in a wholly unrealistic light,” He admitted, looking mildly sheepish. “I don’t need anybody getting the wrong idea.”

After the meal and a brief, but refreshing dessert, Avard offered his guest a tour of the gardens. It was, in no uncertain terms, an invitation to begin their discussions. And, as he waved his additional security detail away, it indicated his trust of the other man.

Hammerly gave him a look as soon as Ivant and Avard took their leave, bidding their respective sides a good evening. He had recognized her nudging his boot with hers several times over the course of the evening, either to draw his attention or to make it look less obvious when she hummed near-silent observations in his ear. And yet his attention - the room’s attention, really - had been absolutely dominated by his former protege, here in the flesh. 

“Would-” The word came out sharp, accentuated with the accent of Sarvechi, of all places. One of the younger female officers gave Thrawn a sheepish smile, her red eyes revealing some of her nervousness, but resolve. “Would you-”

“You must have some amazing stories,” The commander from earlier commented, voice clear, their Basic bearing the twang of Wild Space influence. “Admiral Ivant said he learned so much from you.”

Hammerly laid a hand on Thrawn’s knee. A gentle touch, covert, discreetly hidden beneath off-white table linens. She squeezed and let go.

“If you want stories,” She said, not waiting to see if Thrawn would find the words, “You want to hear from me. This guy is like a whole new person. Confidence looks damn good on him.”

Thrawn waited until Mina had taken over the conversation entirely. She was leaning forward to regale her captive audience with tales of their adventures from the _Thunder Wasp,_ of all things. _“I thought you would not speak to me because I am exiled,”_ He said to the man across from him in quiet Cheunh.

Mid Commander Daritzi inclined his head. He had been watching the conversation unfold with guarded interest. He was younger than Ivant, his expression pensive and his posture attentive. Still, his eyes slid from the enthusiastic conversation between Hammerly and the rest of the Chiss officers to meet Thrawn’s guarded gaze. 

_“Admiral Ivant said that your wishes were to be respected. Our orders were not to disturb you.”_

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace**

**Time Until Grysk Incursion: 4 Days (Est.)**

»»——⍟——««

Negotiations took time. Avard had conversed with the visiting admiral well into the night. The man was sharp and well-mannered, with an eye for detail despite his focus on the bigger picture. He had been graced with the upper hand in the interpersonal department. There were moments when Avard could turn away and see a different man sitting across from him, long legs splayed open, elbows resting just above sharp knees as he leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of his chin, and glittering fire-ruby eyes evaluating him on a level that was beyond him. By contrast, Ivant had sat with his left ankle crossed over his right knee, elbows on the armrests of the chair, his back straight as he steepled his fingers that same way.

Avard Delcklin saw Thrawn's influence in Admiral Ivant, saw the man's natural fire tempered by his former mentor's unyielding cool. What they had discussed was interesting. 

What would happen in the coming days would be more interesting, still.

"You do not look concerned," Thrawn said, sparing them both the formalities of a repetitive greeting. "I had anticipated you would be more tense, considering."

Morning light streamed in from the open air balcony that made up the space behind Delcklin's desk, pale color staining the floor through the lens of thin tapestries that flapped quaintly in the wind. "Your protege is not concerned with the Grysk fleet. I suspect he has more ships than he's told us about."

Thrawn's red eyes were bright in the subdued light. He always clung to shadows. 

Delcklin had worked hard to befriend this man. He had known the Chiss for more than a decade now, and had held him in his greatest confidences for nearly as long. There was something tragic about him, something that spoke of a legacy broken, only hints of the man he had been before they'd met - the one Mina and his other former officers whispered about when most ears were turned away.

Avard wondered what it would take to let his past go, to finally be free from his defeats. He wondered what the galaxy would be like with him taking a more active role in its defense. He both celebrated and lamented that he may soon find out exactly that.

"He also assured me that the defense of our system was a non-negotiable item."

The Chiss came closer, stopping when the muted cerulean of his skin was exposed to direct sunlight. "He has always been a protector," Thrawn said. "His moral code is commendable."

"Mmm," Avard contemplated his course of action carefully. "And what of him now?"

"I have yet to exchange words with him," Thrawn reminded him.

"Do you need to?" He asked pointly, one gray eyebrow arching sharply.

Thrawn seemed to chew on the thought a moment, then shook his head decisively. "No. What did he wish from us, if not some obligation in exchange for defense?"

Avard leaned back into the plush cushions of his chair, letting the wind chimes on the balcony ring cool and low, the melody fading on the wind as he considered his earlier conversation. "He did not name terms, but he placed emphasis on the officer he came with, Daritzi." His mouth parsed the Chiss name carefully, fully aware that his pronunciation needed some work. The Chiss language had a strange fluidity to it that he had not known a human could copy until yesterday. 

"He wishes to leave his forces here."

"That is not something we had anticipated."

"Nor was a human admiral. That he was permitted to serve - even promoted to his highest Imperial rank - was taboo enough." Thrawn stroked his chin, pensive.

"You should speak with him," Avard said, voice gone soft.

"The warriors who accompanied him suggested that he did not wish to disturb me,” Thrawn admitted. “I am not certain how I feel about that.”

Avard chuckled. “I believe the point is to let you decide what is most comfortable. He respects you a great deal.”

“I have not honored our friendship as I should have.”

Avard stroked his beard, thinking. Thrawn had told him the story only once, had only allowed himself the briefest moment to disclose his personal beliefs regarding his former aide and protege, but he would always remember it. Not for the words spoken or the actions Thrawn had taken, but because of the way his usually unreadable eyes seemed to burn with such regret, mourning time lost and paths that seemed permanently blocked. 

“I believe time has tempered that wound, Thrawn.” He waited for the Chiss to meet his gaze before he continued. “This man does not need your approval. He has it, of course,” The magistrate paused, but Thrawn did not contradict him, “But he is resolute in his course of action. He knows in his heart and mind that his actions are what’s best.”

“He always has,” Said Thrawn. His spine straightened, as if perhaps he had made a decision. It was not always so easy to tell. “Once our enemies have been dealt with,” He decided, acknowledging the magistrate’s earlier suggestion.

“Of course,” Avard relented, and turned the subject to more mundane, day-to-day business. It was pointless to push Thrawn. He would likely evade any attempts at coercion, and resent their manipulation. If it were to happen, it would have to be organic.

Avard Delcklin once believed he had lost chance at happiness. He and Thrawn had learned to move forward together, to find a new purpose, a cause worth defending. Avard had learned to find happiness in his life as he lived it. To an extent, he figured Thrawn had, too. 

He had never seen Thrawn look at another being the way he had looked at Admiral Eli’van’to. He did not want to take the man’s place, Avard could tell. He had been captivated by the other man, quietly focused in that way he only was when he studied a new, relevant piece of art. Avard had never been able to see what Thrawn saw when he studied pieces, reflecting upon them for hours, even days at a time.

Hammerly had called it devotion. Delcklin would have called it something else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely didn't use a really tacky ms paint drawing to figure out any space battles you encounter. Nope, certainly not.

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace Gardens**

**Time Until Grysk Incursion: 3 Days (Est.)**

»»——⍟——««

Mina Hammerly took her morning tea hot and let it steep for twice as long as was recommended by the palace staff. She had been forbidden access to caf after brewing too many pots with a consistency like radioactive sledge, something Avard had never let her live down. Across from her, eyes ghosting over the absolute beauty that was the gardens and their state of perpetual bloom, her guest let his tea continue to steep.

"Thank you for coming down so early," She said, stirring sweetener into her drink and lifting it to her lips to taste.

He laughed. "I've been up for a few hours, Hammerly, it's no trouble."

She fixed him with a look. "Mina, please. I insist."

"Fine, Mina." He turned his head back toward her and lifted his mug to his lips, fingers curling around the warm porcelain. Whatever tea it was, she suspected he had brought it with him. The iridescent orange-red color of it was unfamiliar to her. "But call me Eli."

"When we're alone?" She waggled her eyebrows in a mock-suggestive way, grinning. Her actions had instantly taken her back two decades, nostalgia and youth leaving a bittersweet taste in her mouth she couldn't quite blame on her tea. How things had changed, She thought, biting back those conflicting feelings. She was certain he’d never anticipated this situation. She certainly hadn’t.

Eli chuckled softly, hand curved in front of his mouth, shaking his head as he did. He set down his mug, expression fond and gentle. She hadn’t lost her touch. The mood was more familiar. That was good. "What can I do for you?"

She looked out at the gardens, then at the sun, just peeking over the horizon. "Yesterday was a bit tense," She said tentatively, and waited for his reaction.

As the liaison between the council and the military it was her place to intervene, to act in the best interest of all. Calling the previous day tense was a bit of an understatement. The negotiations that had started around the lunch hour and carried on until sunset had been downright hostile, toward the end, barely pieced together with the facade of political niceties.

But, looking at Eli’s lack of anger, Mina got the feeling that he had long since grown accustomed to hostilities layered beneath polite cordiality.

"Did you ask to be in charge of the negotiations?" He asked, resting his elbow on the edge of the table, palm upturned and cradling his cheek.

That made her sigh and put her head down to the left of her teacup. "It's my job," She muttered into the stained wood. "But yes, I asked for this." She took five slow, steady breaths, and straightened her spine. "The alternative would be worse." Really, it would have been. Faro wouldn’t have lasted five minutes if-

"She really hates Thrawn that much?"

As if manifested by his question, Avard and Faro strode through the garden level below the balcony where they sat, engrossed in a heated discussion. Neither looked up at the pair of them. It was obvious they had somewhere to be. 

Mina sighed. "I don't think she hates him. I think she likes to act like it, but that's only because spite has kept her alive this long." She shrugged. "And he takes it because he thinks he deserves it." She lifted her gaze to meet Eli's attentive one, admiring the flecks of tang-bark coloring in his irises amidst a deeper, darker brown. "Which, even if he did, he's done his best to make right."

"She really thought he was devoted to the Empire," He said softly. 

"Didn't you?"

"I lied to myself about it for a long time." His lips twitched, whether in sadness or otherwise, she couldn’t tell. His voice remained quiet and even. "I'm devoted to the Ascendancy in a way I never thought I would be. I never thought I'd be able to let go of the Empire or Lysatra - my homeworld," She rolled her eyes in an exasperatedly fond way that suggested she remembered that detail. "But it's more than that." 

"It took me a while to figure out what Thrawn stood for," She murmured into her cup. "I didn't think we would have had any problems, then Pryce and those rebels, then Va-"

"It doesn't help to dwell on it, Mina."

She sighed. "I know. I just can't reconcile what we did, thinking it was for the greater good, only for things to be so…" She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don’t mean to waste your time."

Eli waved her off, smiling gently. "You’re not. I had a lot of time to think about it too, if it's any consolation. There's nothing for it." He shrugged, finishing his tea. "Nowhere to go but forward."

Silence fell over them, filled in with the sound of growing things: insects and birds in the gardens. Palace staff, government workers beginning their day.

“So,” She began again. “Faro.”

Eli refilled his tea from the small pot that mirrored Mina’s. He tilted his head for a moment, watching her. “Let me deal with the threat first,” He said. “Have Avard table discussions until after.”

“You really do have more ships up there, don’t you?” 

He smiled, a little wry. “I do,” He said. “In the meantime, try and convince her that we’re not the enemy. If you absolutely have to, remind her that th- _we_ exiled Thrawn, but try not to say that with him within earshot.”

"Will you take him back with you?" She asked after a while. Then, “Can you?”

"Do you want me to?" His expression shifted into something guarded. 

Caught you, she thought. Maybe it was good enough to hide his emotions from the Chiss, but she saw that quiet, lonely want, no matter how much he tried to tuck it behind stoicism. Thrawn did that, too, in his own way. With Eli, it was just the way his jaw and lips moved, instead of the eyes. 

"Yes… and no," She said. "But this isn't about me."

"It's not about me, either." 

"If you could, then?"

"If that was what he wanted," Eli nodded.

They sat in companionable silence for a time. She shouldn't have been surprised with the way he was so still and regal - like a Chiss, with darker eyes and skin - but it was hard to reconcile the young man she knew with this one, despite how much she knew they were the same, at their core. Thrawn had been able to predict many things, but she’d watched him these last two days. Eli had surprised him.

Thrawn had loved surprises, before. They were challenges he had seemed so eager to accept and unravel. She hoped this - hoped Eli - was one of those.

When their time was up, they parted amiably. Hammerly bridged the space between them with a fierce hug. "I'm glad you're here," She whispered into his ear. 

He held her tightly, all but lifting her as his spine straightened, strong and steady beyond her expectations. “Me, too,” He admitted.

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace**

**Time Until Grysk Incursion: 3 Days (Est.)**

»»——⍟——««

It would rain this afternoon, Eli was certain. It had been sunny in the morning, but there was a certain smell, indicative of the growing moisture in the air. It eluded to a shift in pressure that would gather into heavy clouds until the sky opened up over them.

The weather was an apt metaphor for their discussions, namely the usual political nonsense as well as Faro's complete and utter lack of willingness to let him handle the situation at hand. Eli had gotten the feeling she was distrustful of her not because he represented a foreign military, but because of Thrawn, and Hammerly had all but confirmed it.

The rub was that he still had not exchanged a single word with Thrawn. Not for lack of wanting to, either. He had felt the weight of Thrawn's attention like two hands pressing down on his shoulders, or warm breath on the back of his neck. It was never for long, not unless most everyone’s attention was directed elsewhere, but Eli seemed to fall back into his understanding of Thrawn like piloting a freighter. No matter how long it had been, it was easy enough to pick up again.

He had never quite figured out when that had gone from bothering him to, well, _not_ bothering him, but he had missed the sensation. He had missed Thrawn's seemingly undivided attention, his focus, and his intelligence. But he had missed the man beneath those things more. 

One never truly understood what they had - the scope and personal value of it - until they had lost it, be that loss temporary or permanent. 

Thrawn had never been someone Eli could claim as his, though he had been a great many things to Eli both during and after their time together. But if someone were to ask, to consider it the other way around, Eli could freely admit that he was Thrawn’s. Not in the sense of possession, for Eli was his own man, but in the sense that Eli knew his roots. Knew where he had come from, who had helped mold and shape him, who had offered both a hand at his back to steady him and the tools and teachings to help him branch out into the galaxy on his own. 

The most difficult lesson Eli had had to learn in the Ascendancy was patience. But he had learned, and he would do this right. When Thrawn was ready, they would talk. And if that did not appear to be the case, Eli would see Thalias’ request to fruition and leave with his head held high, even if it killed him.

He had no right to Thrawn. Only the man himself could choose his path from here.

 _“Ivant-abcesit,_ ” The soft baritone of Daritzi inserted itself into his thoughts. “Your contemplation is rarely so complete.”

Eli leaned back in his chair in the main hall, gaze still directed outside. He considered the logistics of the wide rooftop gutter systems he had seen both when they arrived and in the gardens, how they must prevent most of the rainfall from damaging the floors and framework as there were no windows. 

“I’m watching the weather change,” He said, instead of the sardonic rebuke Daritzi was expecting.

“It will rain?” The man asked, brows furrowing in concern. The younger man dipped his head and looked toward the outside world, examining the few distant wispy clouds while giving a dubious look toward the bright sun.

“Soon,” Eli confirmed. “What can I do for you, mid commander?”

“First Officer Tiphoni sent this,” Daritzi said, handing his admiral a datapad. Eli scanned it, then handed it back. “Her full analysis will be incoming?”

“They’re checking in with the tracers now. If they’re sending scouts…”

“Yes,” Eli agreed. “Have the shuttle crew on standby.”

“Already done. She said her next report would be to you directly.”

“Good,” He said, rising. “Have everyone meet us in the briefing room.”

»»——⍟——««

She wanted to be happy to see him. To be able to negotiate with someone who was familiar, whom she had served with, who was - as far as she’d ever known - an intelligent, compassionate man. But the more time she spent with Eli Vanto, the more the Chiss in him came out, and the more she found herself questioning what she knew.

She had known Thrawn for what, five years when his true colors showed? He’d gambled with their fleet - he should have just killed that damn Jedi - and he’d cost them tens of thousands of lives. And then, on the other side, he’d admitted the truth. He was a traitor… and they - anyone who managed to survive - were collateral damage.

 _‘I had hoped your shuttle escaped,’_ Thrawn had said to her. _‘You did as they asked. They would have absolved you.’_

Tarkin would’ve absolved her with a bullet to the back of the head, unless Vader had gotten to her first. He had no idea how any of it worked. He never had. Maybe that was Vanto’s fault, Vanto who left, who committed treason right alongside Thrawn, who had been offered the choice and had taken it.

Vanto had already betrayed one regime. Who knew what he stood for now, if he’d turn his back on them, too.

"They will swarm," Daritzi said. "Their preferred battle tactic is to swarm outnumbered enemies and annihilate them quickly. It is likely that they will launch their fighters as soon as they exit hyperspace in an attempt to create too many targets for us to eliminate easily.”

Faro drummed her fingers against the holo-console’s trim as the projector came to life, illuminating a three dimensional model of Yalu as well as the two fleets in orbit around it. A few quiet beeps as the controls were worked - it seemed Vanto was still quite familiar with retrofit Imperial parts, as this had been one of the few tables that were worth salvaging from the _Chimaera’s_ lower decks - and the briefest tapping on his personal datapad had her all but biting her tongue to control her surprise.

When she found the words, they were clipped. "That is _not_ what you told us."

"The Grysks have a highly structured military composed not only of their own forces, but of those of their client species," Mid Commander Daritzi said, hands clasped behind his back. “They are able to assemble and disassemble their forces at will.”

"We are aware, mid commander," Magistrate Delcklin came up beside her, his gaze finding hers. "Ships of this size will have what? Twenty, thirty fighters?" He indicated the larger ships.

A quick sweep of the board told her there were sixteen of them. The equivalent, in Imperial terms, was probably close to ten star destroyers. Considering the size of Yalu, and her own tiny, insignificant fleet-

"The fighters won't be launched," Daritzi assured them, "And they cannot be launched before reaching their destination. They do not have hyperdrives."

Faro clenched her fists. "Your sources reported a battle group at best. Ten ships total. There are nearly three times as many ships about to make their way here," She said, directing her words at Vanto. Daritzi opened his mouth but she glared at him. "I was addressing your admiral, mid commander."

Daritzi flushed and looked to his admiral, whose eyes flashed, offended on his subordinate's behalf. Faro didn't feel bad. She was the leader of this system's defense force, and she deserved to speak to the highest ranking official from the other side.

"They do this as a precaution,” The human admiral said. “They know their enemies have tracking methods they’re unfamiliar with.”

"So they could be baiting you into a trap," Faro clarified. She saw Hammerly tense out of the corner of her eye and ignored it. Hammerly was too soft. It made her good at what she did, soothing friction burns where military and politics rubbed together. She saw the bigger picture, yes.

But she was weakened by her emotions and an overabundance of empathy.

"They could," Eli agreed. "We are prepared to meet them in battle regardless."

"Last time I checked, the Chiss Defense Fleet didn't have fighters. They like long range battles with mid and large sized capital ships. That ship of yours is the largest Chiss ship I've ever seen, and it's still about half the size of a star destroyer."

It was a low-ball, she knew. That flagship was closer to about ninety percent of the size of an ISD, but it didn’t matter. Vanto ignored the jab like it had never happened. It was so Thrawn-like of him that she almost snarled when he finally said, "This is not Imperial space and there are no Imperials here. Talking in their terms is pointless, High General." She heard the carefully concealed heat of his words and considered goading him.

He continued before she could. "Regardless of your opinion of my fleet, the fact remains that yours is not prepared to go to war with Grysk forces. You have faced planetside leadership, according to the data you sent us. You did not dismantle all of their naval forces when you retook the planet and several ships escaped the planet’s orbit." He paused. "You do not know the depths of their military resources and procedures. Your knowledge of their dogma will not be enough. If we agree to terms after the battle, I will gladly see to it that Commander Daritizi and his battle group educate you on all tactics we have encountered."

She was losing control of this situation. She needed to get it back. "Vanto-"

He spoke over her. "Your fleet will not stand a chance against them. You are not a last line of defense. You asked for our protection, and we have come to provide it. As the Wah’ahaunta Nebula eclipses our borders, we are obligated to defend you from all foreign threats, whether you agree to it or not."

“That is not Chiss policy,” Thrawn interjected, the outburst so uncharacteristic it made Delcklin flinch and Hammerly whirl around to face him.

“It's Chiss policy now,” Vanto said, holding Thrawn’s gaze. It was a charged moment, almost hostile for how intensely the two men stared at each other. The beeping alert tone of an incoming transmission interrupted them, forcing Eli to wrench his gaze away first.

 _“Ivant-Ch’abcesit,”_ A transmission appeared in the middle of the holo table, the projection of a slender female Chiss with hair pulled back in a top knot.

“Commander Daritzi,” Vanto said, never taking his eyes off the woman who appeared on the holo. His posture changed and with it, so did every other Chiss in the room, hands dropping from parade rest to full attention. The command was wordless, like an indicator light or a proximity sensor that required a snappy response.

“Enroute,” Vanto’s second officer confirmed. “Four minutes.”

“Go ahead, Senior Captain.”

She began in the Chiss language, then paused, seeming to take in the group around the projector. 

“Go ahead.” He assured her. “In Basic, if you please.”

Her accent reminded Faro of Thrawn, though her tone of voice was strangely melodic. “All battle groups have reported in. Two more scout passes. No additional detection. It’s been reported that they are on the move again, making better time than anticipated. We’re waiting for final calculations, but-”

“You have my preliminary calculations and algorithm, Senior Captain. Begin the preparations. Keep everyone running cold.”

“Yes, admiral.”

“Report to _Ar’alani-Vun’ur’bovah_ with the final numbers. Do not wait for me. She’s expecting you.” She nodded briskly. “Anything else for me?” He asked, the words kind, beckoning.

“No, admiral.” 

“Good. I’ll be there soon. _Ch’abcesit cavracah._ ”

When the projector went dim, Ivant handed his datapad to his second. “You called it, sir,” Daritzi said. “Fifty hours, on the mark.” Behind him, there was a quiet comment from one of the female officers which he waved off.

Faro raised her eyebrows at Vanto as he said, “I’m afraid we’ll have to table any further discussions. I need to ready my fleet for the coming battle.”

“Battle groups, _plural_ ,” She replied, mind racing through the conversation between Vanto and his first officer.

“Yes, General. Battle groups,” He confirmed. “I don’t like issuing ultimatums to presumed allies,” He inclined his head to Delcklin politely, which, couldn’t have been very considering the situation, but the Chiss admiral’s expression was blank, like he didn’t particularly care who he offended. “Even ones who aren’t in a position to be making demands.”

Then, his gaze traveled to a place over Faro’s right shoulder. Nothing about it his expression changed as he spoke, but he didn’t look away. “Commander Safrel, Lieutenant Commander Afsayja, you will stay planetside to advise High General Faro.”

The male officer twitched, as if reflexively biting back a comment. “As you wish, _Ivant-Ch’abcesit._ ”

“Don’t give me that look,” Vanto said to him, not looking back at Commander Safrel. He was still holding Thrawn’s gaze. There was a conversation happening there, she thought. Maybe. “Either of you,” He continued, finally turning away. “The view is better in space, sir," Afsayja said.

“You know how to use the board,” He said, as if that was enough of a view. Apparently his officers wanted to watch the battle from space. Faro wished he’d take them, if only so she didn't have to pretend to tolerate them. “I’ll have comms wide open once we’re underway.”

“Recorders, too?”

“After action,” Daritzi inserted with a hint of admonishment. “They’ll be too spread out anyway. This will be the better view.”

“If you say so, mid commander,” The lieutenant commander said. Both of them stiffened to attention when Ivant stopped beside them. “Sir?”

He said something too quietly to hear and they both nodded. “You are representatives of the Chiss Ascendancy and the Expansionary Defense Fleet,” He said. “You know what is expected of you.”

“Yes, Admiral Ivant,” They said in perfect sync.

“Very good. Report anything of concern to Mid Commander Daritzi.”

“Yes, sir,” They saluted, right hands clenched over their hearts in a fist.

Vanto turned back to her.

"Officers Afsayja and Safrel will act as translators when it is time. They will similarly contact me if you do anything ill-advised."

"Your trust in me is admirable, Vanto," Faro muttered under her breath, the words hot with sarcasm.

It had been too quiet to be heard, yet he met and held her gaze like he had. It felt like fire and frost, pinning her in place. She had wondered how much he had channeled Thrawn, trying to assimilate. But this was nothing like Thrawn’s anger. "I will be returning to my ship, and my fleet will be leaving orbit. I will return once our enemies have been eliminated to finish discussions."

He swept out of the room just as the first drops of rain fell, making a soothing rat-a-tat-tap sound outside the open windows. The two Chiss he had left behind turned towards the sound, watching as the drizzle became a downpour.

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Orbit**

**Time Until Grysk Incursion: 2 hours (Forecast Model #3)**

»»——⍟——««

This was a horrible idea, Thrawn thought. It made sense - the best technology was kept aboard Faro’s cruiser and she had not promised the Ascendancy’s admiral anything - but it was a horrible idea. If he had been the primary, he would have-

“I know this isn’t what you would do,” Faro said, coming up behind him. She sounded less aggravated and more exhausted. It had only been about twelve hours since the Chiss fleet had left Yalu's orbit, but Thrawn had been wondering if she had been ill at ease since the Ascendancy’s forces had arrived. “And as much as I’d like to get involved, I know he’s got ion cannons pointed right at us-” Lieutenant Commander Afsayja flushed as her senior officer gave her an incredulous look from across the small vessel’s bridge. “But I can't not be out there."

"It's a perfectly reasonable request," Thrawn said amiably.

"You didn't suggest it."

"I don't know a better way of insulting you than by attempting to fight your battles for you, Karyn Faro."

She exhaled, reining in the burst of displeasure that made her cheeks and neck light up in the infrared. The muscles in her arms and shoulders tensed. "I should have expected that," She admitted. "What would you do?"

"Battle groups insinuate at least ten other ships, their sizes anything from our larger freighters to the admiral's flagship." He waved over both Chiss officers. "Tell us if that is correct," He said to them.

They exchanged a look. Specifically, Lieutenant Commander Afsayja looked to Commander Safrel warily, while the senior commander stiffened. Since being left alone with their would-be allies, Safrel had grown increasingly more aloof.

Safrel looked at Thrawn first, then Faro, and finally Afsayja. He exhaled with practiced control, but the way his breath moved indicated his anxiety. After a moment, he spoke. "We have enough ships to counter the threat." His accent was thicker, exacerbated by his emotion. It was as if he were a different person compared to the witty and jovial man from dinner the first night they had arrived, asking shamelessly for stories. "It is as Admiral Ivant said. We do not arrive here displaying the full might of our forces. We would appear as a threat to you, while alerting our enemies to our increased presence."

"Will Admiral Ivant allow us to move?"

The lines of worry on Afsayja's face deepened, but Safrel seemed to expect it. "I can ask," He said, activating his comm and firing off the request in Cheunh.

The reply opened with quiet murmurings. They seemed to be adjusting something? Thrawn recognized Vanto issuing orders regarding angles and trajectories. When they stopped, a quieter, more feminine voice continued.

Daritzi's voice came through clearer than the rest but still quiet and calm. _"Is High General Faro present?"_

"I am," Faro said, loud enough to be heard over the commander's wrist communicator. 

_“You really have to push, don’t you?”_ This time it was Vanto, who sounded mildly irritated to be bothered, but otherwise placid.

“You didn’t really give me the chance to ask before you told me what I was doing.”

 _“The battlefield is approximately two thousand kilometers across. You’ll never see a thing. I need you to trust me, Karyn.”_ He paused and then his voice lowered, issuing an order to the helm, ordering a three degree adjustment of a ship in the fourth battle group, the Cheunh flowing from his lips effortlessly amidst sound . _“Not because of our history, but because we have the same enemy. I won’t let them harm your people. I give you my word. And the word of my people, who are a hell of a lot more like you than you could ever know.”_

“Vanto-”

 _“Let me prove it to you.”_ He didn’t plead with her, but his voice remained soft. Expectant. It was a daring play, attempting to counter Karyn Faro with anything less than an overabundance of cleansing fire.

Faro’s palms smacked the holotable, but her shoulders slumped in acceptance. “I don’t like this, Eli.”

 _“I know,” He said. “If I thought you would’ve gone willingly, you’d be here.”_ Thrawn could hear the sad smile in his voice, a split second mourning for a lost opportunity. _“We’ll talk afterward. There will be a lot of salvage you’ll find useful.”_

“Salvage? We don’t even know how you’re going to fare.”

_“We’ll be fine. Not our first dogfight, High General, but I appreciate your concern.”_

The connection clicked off without waiting for Faro’s reply, which was for the best as Faro didn’t have much beside curses she uttered that the Chiss officers didn’t know. They stood awkwardly to the side, falling to an anxious parade rest. Neither had weapons on them like the blaster strapped to Faro’s hip. It was highly doubtful that Karyn would ever harm them - she was hotheaded, but found needless killing abhorrent enough - but her lack of trust was more than enough to make them ill at ease.

“Was that enough for you to figure out what they’re doing?” She asked Thrawn.

Thrawn dipped his head in a steady nod, careful to conceal any pleasure at their ability to work together seamlessly, even now. “They are making adjustments. Half degree rotations. Attempting to maintain specific angles and orientations. Whatever they’re doing is contingent upon ship positions.”

“Alright,” She said, eyeing their guests. “Anyone care to share?”

“No, ma’am,” The lieutenant commander said primly.

“I gather their positioning is critical. Grav-well generators, probably.”

“That is a likely possibility. It’s nearly impossible to tell where the Grysk forces will emerge from hyperspace,” Thrawn mused. “Perhaps they have a method to control it-”

“Or, Vanto could have a way to narrow it down to a window,” Faro suggested. “Maybe, I don’t know, two thousand kilometers or so?” Both of them turned to the Chiss commanders. The pair of younger officers had paled considerably, and Thrawn knew they had them.

»»——⍟——««

One hour and forty-three minutes later, their sensors detected movement into the nebula. It was just as well, the last nearly two hours had been successful in nothing but increasing Faro’s frustration and proving just how stubborn a Chiss could be. Both commanders had not budged. It was a wise choice, but not an easy one, given both he and Faro had multiple tactics at their disposal to bait an unwilling party into partaking in the conversation. 

Of course, these two had been trained by someone who knew both himself and Karyn Faro quite well. 

“General!” The sensor officer called. “On the board: Looks like ten, fourteen, no - twenty-six ships have dropped out of hyperspace.”

“Comms?”Faro asked, voice sharp.

“Wide open,” The communications officer confirmed. “ No action on any channels.”

Though there was nothing to see out the forward viewport, Faro was most comfortable pacing her bridge. Thrawn could relate. “I want weapon systems online and shields at full power. No one is to move out of formation unless I give the order.”

“Understood, General.”

There was a heady anticipation that came with battle, whether participating or spectating. Thrawn had long since learned how to predict its flow, like an intricate, ageless dance. One fleet met another. With their forces assembled, a challenge was issued.

The comms came to life. Unlike last time, they were crystal clear. There was no background artifact, no last minute orders or manipulations. Their plan was in motion.

He spoke in Meese Calf, a harsh but perfunctory tongue. _"This is Admiral Eli'van'to of the Ascendancy warship Eiodolon. You are trespassing on Ascendancy controlled space. I repeat-"_

 _"This space belongs to the Grysk Hegemony,"_ Came the acerbic, skittering reply. Thrawn saw the reactions in that moment, the shudder of those so intimately aware of what Scratchlings looked and sounded like. _"The Chiss Ascendancy is trespassing upon our territory, Admiral Eli'van'to. The penalty is death."_

 _"You are not capable of making that call,"_ The human admiral said. _"I wish to speak to the one who does."_

Afsayja moved up to the holotable in the center of the bridge. She said, "Systems should be up now,” Then waited unobtrusively off to the side.

"Final adjustments should be complete," Safrel confirmed, changing the perspective of the battle from horizontal to vertical projection. He nodded to Faro. "Cloaking will be removed as soon as-"

A private comm opened, and the first officer spoke in Cheunh, smooth and urgent.

"Senior Officer Tiphoni is asking all navigators to confirm that there are none of their brothers or sisters aboard the enemy warships," Safrel advised the group.

“Will that change things?” Faro asked.

“It has in the past,” Afsayja said. Safrel waved off the younger woman before she could elaborate. There was a story there, Thrawn thought, but let the moment pass. 

Safrel counted the seconds, his fingers twitching to indicate the passage of time. “No confirmation, so they'll proceed as planned."

 _“It is only fitting that a hireling should speak to another hireling,”_ Came an unmistakably Grysk voice, _“But I will allow you your final request.”_ They paused to emphasize their next words. _“We know who you are, Eli’van’to.”_

 _“Excellent,”_ Vanto’s voice called back, as if amused. _“Then you understand there will be no surrender and no escape.”_

It sounded so little like Vanto, and yet Thrawn thought he had never sounded more himself. The easy confidence he exuded at a political dinner was nothing compared to chiding sarcasm of the man he’d watch begin to grow into his potential. There was an undercurrent to his voice that hadn’t existed in their discussions, no matter how frustrated he might have been in the course of their negotiations.

“I thought he said they would launch fighters right away.”

“If it had been both of our forces, I imagine they would have expected a more traditional fight,” Afsayja murmured to Faro. “They have yet to figure out how our strategy works."

“Even if they did,” Safrel added, “It is already too late.”

The Grysk spoke slowly, as if savoring each word of its threat. _“You will die. Your puny flotilla will be slaughtered. Your masters will serve. The Chiss Ascendancy will be-”_

Local comms flared over the Grysk commander’s monologue. Vanto ordered, _”Battle groups one through four: Disengage cloaking and converge. Battle groups five through seven, hold for confirmation.”_

A chorus of acknowledgements followed as Lieutenant Commander Afsayja translated.

“Seven?”

Thrawn’s attention was drawn to the board. “That is what he said.”

“Ma’am,” The sensor officer called, voice pinched, ”Twenty ships, on the board.”

“We need them to send a message to their waystation with their intel,” Commander Safrel told them.

“You’re tracking them,” Faro realized.

“We are,” Both officers agreed.

“And that’s how you knew the scope of the threat against us before we contacted you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Safrel said. “We’ve been systematically eradicating their forces as they cross into our territory, but their military is so often diluted by their clients that it is difficult to root them out. Their supply lines are similarly diverse and convoluted, so we must track a resource that they strive to maintain.”

“Information,” Faro said. “They wouldn’t risk transmissions being intercepted by sending them directly to Grysk space, so you’re waiting to collect.”

Safrel smiled tentatively. It was clear that Faro’s understanding pleased him. Both officers looked a bit more at ease now, but Thrawn suspected that was less to do with situational clarity and more to do with the Chiss Military making its presence known.

One of the officers drew their attention back to the board. "They're turning starboard, looks like-"

The comms went live again. _"Tracer confirmation received."_

 _"Acknowledged,"_ First Officer Tiphoni replied.

Vanto didn't hesitate. _"Battle groups six and seven: Divert power from cloaking to mag-wells. Groups one, three, and five, confirm positioning and launch full ion spread. Groups two and four, plasma spheres. All groups follow your vectors and confirm when locked in."_

Faro listened to the translation from Afsayja with her arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line. Confirmations came across in static-laiden snippets, likely due to distance and the increase in ion fire. Five ships made the jump to lightspeed and Faro cursed.

"Another eight ships. Looks like they're-" The sensor officer lifted their head from the board at their console. "Five more!"

"Those are the ones that attempted to jump," Faro corrected, then looked to Safrel. "Do your mag wells do what I think they do?"

"Yes, general." He grinned. "They are admittedly less kind than a gravity well as they destabilize and rip apart a ship’s hyperdrive upon activation, but," He shrugged. "They will not escape," He said. "Now, they are surrounded."

Safrel was right. The enemy was surrounded by three waves of ships: seven larger warships, then a middle ring of fourteen smaller ships spaced between the gaps between the first, and finally another alternating ring of seven warships spaced between the second. The three rings moved along their assigned vectors as if they were a single entity, drawing closer to the fleet.

"Interesting formation," Faro said. "It almost looks like a sun."

"Yes, ma'am," Safrel said. "This is," He paused to translate the words into something befitting the target language, "Rising Sun formation."

"Clever," Faro said. "I've never seen anything like it."

No, Faro wouldn’t have. But Thrawn had.

The battle, if it could be called that, lasted approximately eight minutes. Thrawn was hard pressed to take his eyes off the board, watching as that familiar sigil converged and annihilated their enemies, like an artwork revealing its secrets before his eyes.

That’s what it was, after all. Only a fool would call it a coincidence.

Like the two young officers at Faro's side, he once wore the uniform of the Chiss Defense fleet. Only instead of the house Ufsa or Chaf insignias on their right shoulders, he had worn a seven pointed star. For Thrawn, it had been a symbol of dedication and duty.

" _Ron'tazehe'i Mitth_ ," Thrawn said. _The Mitth Sunrise._ The sun-shaped sigil of the family that had adopted him decades earlier.

 _"Nah. Ron'tazehe'i Ch'ast tisut Ivant-Ch'abcesit_ ," Afsayja corrected softly, refusing to meet his gaze, for she also knew precicely what it was.

_No. Admiral Ivant calls it the Art of Sunrise._

Thrawn had never encountered another being as surprising as Eli’van’to.

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace**

**59 Hours Later**

»»——⍟——««

"The scrap alone," Faro was muttering into her whiskey, shaking her head in that way the soon-to-be inebriated did. Mina could hardly blame her. Things had certainly taken a turn.

The threat against the Yalunese had been neutralized. The Chiss _armada_ (and it was an armada - that cheeky son of a mudscuffer had come with _thirty-three_ ships and he had not corrected Faro about the presence of an _untold number_ ofstarfighters) had already begun teardown and salvage of the Grysk warfleet in tandem with Yalunese crews. The Chiss sought information, not material.

The Chiss wished to establish an outpost in the nebula and had brought everything they would need to do so. They would assist in the establishment of trade routes with the Ascendancy and further out into the Chaos, as well as bolster the military presence in the Nebula and its surrounding systems. In exchange, the Chiss would be able to travel freely through the system. 

The legalities were more intricate, and there were political advisors likely slashing certain proposals and clauses into shreds, but the major points were of great benefit to the Yalunese. It would pass. Mina and Avard had no doubts.

"Indeed," Avard hummed, inclining his glass to them both. He had consulted with the majority of his council non-stop since the conflict had ended, and his footing in the final negotiations was secure. "Now, we may honor our affirmed allies and celebrate the beginning of prosperous relations between our peoples."

Yes. Now was a time for celebration. Faro went off to find a quiet spot to do a final check-in with her second in command before she really let loose. Like clockwork, Thrawn appeared the moment she was out of sight.

He had been cagey since the battle. More than usual - which was very VERY cagey. She didn't wave him over but he had always gravitated to the spot between herself and Avard. As far as strategy and tactics went, no one would be stupid enough to bother him - nor would they get away with it - with them nearby. It also confirmed his position as Avard's top advisor, so it ultimately made sense.

Except, he didn't take up his usual position. He stood to her left, leaving her in the middle for a change. Was it because she had been the one to take point in the operation? Probably.

He tended to be more of a recluse when it came to public affairs. His experiences - okay, she revised mentally, _The Empire_ \- had changed him. He had never liked matters of state, much less these formal dinner parties, he had told her, but had always been able to manage. After the Empire, the betrayals - even his own, though Mina understood it (even when she hadn't wanted to) - Thrawn tended to withdraw. It was a weakness he'd never been able to correct, so he protected against it in the only way he knew how.

"Everything alright?" He asked her, his eyes glittering like firegems.

She nodded. "And you?"

"Acceptable." He lingered long enough to refuse a refill of his goblet - water, not wine - and all but blended into the walls as more dignitaries, council members, and some of Faro's people came in. 

It all changed in an instant.

The room itself was lower than the hallway leading toward the palace's entry. A small staircase led down into the entertaining and dining space, open on one side to the elements and a courtyard walkway that would eventually wind through the rest of the palace gardens. The advantage of the layout was that those arriving could see the full scale of the room and anyone they wished to speak with. Likewise, it put the newcomers on display for others already present.

When Admiral Ivant entered the room, it was with a Chiss she recognized as Daritzi to his left and one that had not been with him to his right. Like most Chiss, she seemed severe but beautiful at first glance, her hair pulled into a top knot that accentuated the sharpness of her features.

Eli descended the stairs with his two subordinates not far behind him. They both paused at the bottom and Daritzi reached out for the female officer, catching her by the sleeve of her uniform tunic. He tilted his head to the side and she fell back further, stepping around Eli entirely.

Odd, Mina thought, right up until Thrawn had pushed his drink into her empty hand without so much as a sound or a glance, moving forward as if compelled, as if there was some sort of magnetic pull the moment the Chiss-aligned human had entered the room.

Avard had a hand on her forearm and Thrawn's drink handed off to a server before she could think too hard about it, and Commander Daritzi was heading their way, the female officer in tow.

"It's alright," Avard said softly. "I knew this would happen."

"You did?" She asked, voice pitching up with mounting surprise.

Avard nodded, eyes twinkling knowingly. "Ivant said he had a secondary objective."

"Did he say what it was?"

"To correct an egregious transgression from a long, long time ago," Daritzi said, overhearing the question. "Magistrate, Councilor, allow me to introduce my superior officer, Senior Captain Alti'pho'nitka."

The woman shook hands the human way, introducing herself as Tiphoni in a voice that sounded familiar from the comms during the battle and its aftermath. When introductions had evolved into pleasantries and idle chatter, Mina looked back in the direction Thrawn had gone. 

Both he and Eli were missing.

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace Gardens**

»»——⍟——««

This was not the way Eli wanted to do this. He did not want to drop this bomb on Thrawn, then expect him to bottle it all up and go sit at some put-on, socially taxing dinner (though he was sure it would be lovely, Yalu had been so far). He wanted to take the man aside at the end of the night, slip him the small, sealed roll of parchment and leave him to his contemplation in peace. 

Thrawn had always operated on his own timetable, though. This shouldn't have been a surprise. It wasn't, really. He'd outgrown the shocky nerves of such impromptu conversations. While there was no Chiss like Thrawn, there were certain similarities among species and peoples. Putting Eli Vanto on his toes, both literally and metaphorically, had been one of them.

They had quietly moved to the far side of the dining theatre, into the walkway and were out of sight in seconds, without a single person bothering them. When they had reached the gardens, they were vacant, the blooms gleaming in the early evening sun. They would have time before dinner was served, at least, for Yalu's latemeal was typically served after the sun had set and the skies were dark. 

Thrawn guided them to an alcove laced with lush fern and ivy, cool and shaded from both the sun and the humidity. It was a good location for a private conversation; A place where voices would not carry.

Whatever Thrawn had wanted this conversation to be - No, Eli thought, he knew. He knew Afsayja couldn't keep her mouth shut because she was curious and inquisitive and Safrel was too horrible of a liar to do anything but confirm.

And Thrawn was… he was always just self-important enough to assume that things were about him. He wasn't wrong. This was, and it wasn't. Eli's objectives had always come first, his mission, his duties before his personal goals, no matter what. 

So when Thrawn's breathing changed, lips relaxing in a preface to a conversation he'd obviously thought about for some time, Eli held up his hand.

"I need to go first," He said in Cheunh, the words coming second nature by now. He watched Thrawn's expression settle with that same guardedness Eli had seen since his arrival. He reached into the pocket of his tunic, fingers catching on the carefully rolled scroll of parchment and its waxy burgundy seal. 

Those bright, intelligent red eyes caught on the parchment the moment Eli pulled it out, the whisper of the paper loud as he exposed it to the open air. He rolled it in his fingertips so that the seal faced up, exposing its origin. Thrawn stared at it, eyes going dark and narrow. His posture tensed immediately, and Eli did not alter his natural expression, opting to be as open about the matter as he could be.

"I was asked to give this to you," Eli said, voice even but soft, the words sounding more formal in Cheunh than they might have in Basic.

Slender, powerful fingers wrapped around the edge of the scroll extended toward its intended party. Thrawn took it with a gentleness most might not expect, as if touching the thick parchment might cause it to catch fire and burn to ashes. The rage Eli felt, the jagged, bitter edges of hate he had never thought himself capable of had been tempered by time, but this wound had cut deep and in that moment Eli knew that as Thrawn carried his emotional scars from that man's 'justice,' so too would Eli carry those burning, ugly feelings, if only to ensure it never happened again. 

_"Ron'tazehe'i Mitth,"_ Thrawn said quietly. "Do you know what this is?" He asked, not of the symbol - not after Eli’s rather overt maneuver - but of the edict inside.

He had watched Patriarch Mitth'ali'astov draft the document and melt the wax, had held it closed with his fingers while she pressed her seal to the unassuming scroll. He had sworn an oath, tethering himself to his duty to see it delivered.

"I do."

Thrawn exhaled measuredly, perhaps realizing he had been holding his breath. Eli pretended not to notice that even after decades removed from his people, Mitth'raw'nuruodo held onto their every word. If this were an order, he would carry it out.

He had never - he would not _ever_ \- stop serving them. It did not matter if he were exiled or not. It did not matter if they wanted him to or not. It did not matter what they thought of him.

"He would not," Thrawn's gaze was intense, burning into Eli's eyes after only the first few lines. The seal had been carefully removed from one side, and stared at Eli as well. "This cannot be his-"

Eli held his gaze over the parchment. "Read until the end," He said, instead of the comforting platitudes he wanted to say, the support he wanted to give. Thrawn would see soon enough. 

Thrawn's nostrils flared, eyes sliding back and forth as he read each line carefully. When he got to the bottom, his eyes widened, the hand coming up to stroke his chin stopping halfway as he stared at the long, graceful signature belonging to the Mitth Patriarch. 

And then he sat there, the missive held in a loose hand, the edges of the paper curling back in on themselves. The Chaos had not collapsed in on itself. Life went on in the sharp cries of indignant insects and wild birds, the sound of green things growing, the beat of the hot sun in the sky and the cool burble of a distant fountain. 

When Thrawn stopped staring into the middle distance long enough to ask what it meant, Eli had been neither surprised nor unprepared for the bluntness of his reaction.

He took a deep breath and thought about the truth. It means, "We owe you far more than you owe us." And it meant, "There's a place for you, if you want it." Eli reached out, but stopped himself. Regardless of what he felt - what he had _always_ felt, or worse, what he wanted - he did not have the right. He would not dictate the terms of their interactions beyond this. "It means that your life path is yours.”

Those red eyes bore into Eli’s own. They were so very different now. Eli was not young and brash because of it. He was older and wiser, chaos, yet control. He did not see Thrawn as a superior to be obeyed, or himself as a pawn to be deployed. Likewise, he knew Thrawn was seeing him through an evolved view as well. 

Finally, Thrawn nodded his assent, accepting Thalias’ missive. Eli turned away, looking in the direction they’d come. All he could give Thrawn now was distance and time.

Theirs had always been an intricate dance, Eli thought. A dance that had started more than twenty years earlier, now. At the thought, the words were on his lips, unbidden.

“I always wanted to see you again,” Eli said, voice barely a whisper. He didn’t dare turn around. He only had so much control. But, if this was it, if Thrawn chose to continue his protection of his people from afar, “Just one last time. I didn’t understand before, but now...”

“I think we both would have done it differently,” Thrawn answered, voice equally subdued.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plot, a lot of smut, and even more feelings ahead. Enjoy!

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace**

»»——⍟——««

Something was amiss. Something subtle and too easy to lose track of, like a skittish tooka who would bolt if faced head on. It was an apt enough metaphor when Hammerly glanced as far left as she could to see Thrawn, lingering on the outskirts of the human officers present at the banquet. The majority of them were former Imperials who still held a great deal of respect for him. Their interest had been piqued by the new forces, and introductions between human and Chiss forces would be ongoing for some time. Thrawn was familiar. He was able to assist with some of the mispronunciations and heavier accents that cropped up. 

He didn't seem any different than he usually did, still attentive, yet aloof and more than a little bit stoic. She tapped her foot on the marble floor tiles and considered. He had come back from wherever he and Eli had gone much later than Eli had, exceedingly pensive. Avard had urged her to give him space and not push. So she hadn't.

When she met his gaze sometime later - somehow he always seemed to draw people to his eyes - she nodded and he inclined his head microscopically before turning back to the officer at his side.

"What happened?" Came a surprisingly not so slurred voice beside her. Mina turned to see Faro fall in beside her, her dark eyes scanning the room.

"Happened?" Mina parroted blankly. 

"He's acting strangely."

"This isn't exactly comfortable for him," Mina felt inclined to point out, voice swinging low in offense on her friend's behalf.

Faro nodded. "No, I imagine not." It took a moment, but she sighed. "I imagine this is actually rather painful for him."

"Are you suddenly feeling empathetic because Vanto gave you a fleet-sized pile of scrap?"

"You’re assuming I have empathy?" Faro's eyebrows went up a bit. “I’m disappointed in you, Commander.”

"Now, now," Mina said, more exasperated than anything, though Faro calling her ‘commander’ didn’t usually end well. However, they'd both been drinking and it wasn't worth bashing her head into a wall over. "Ma'am," She began, fighting fire with fire and making Faro swallow hard at the feeling of nostalgia, "You and I both know your heart isn't that shriveled and black."

"Well," Faro said, finishing her drink and setting it on a nearby table to be picked up by a passing server, "It certainly feels like it sometimes, but I suppose."

"I know you don't hate him. I know you want to-"

"And your point?" Faro sounded tired. It was an old argument, and one they circled back on, often until either Avard or the man himself pulled them apart to cool off. "What do my feelings have to do with Thrawn right now? He took off with Vanto, then came back without. Isn't that what's really upsetting him?"

"Karyn, Mina." Avard appeared before them. He considered them both for a moment.

"I'm just worried," Mina admitted. “And you’re the one who asked what happened.”

Faro very obstinately did not roll her eyes, though anyone with eyes could see the gargantuan effort she put forth to prevent herself from doing so. “That’s because I figured he’d tell you. You’ve known the both of them the longest.” She huffed. “Anyway," Faro said, blasé, "There’s nothing you or I can do. Either Vanto will take him, or he won't."

"That isn't Vanto's call to make," Mina scowled.

The magistrate smiled at them both, equal parts paternal and soothing. "We shall have to see how the night unfolds," He supposed sagely.

"You know something," Faro accused him.

His green-gold eyes twinkled as he scanned the room, likely looking for any eavesdroppers. He was good, almost as good as Thrawn at knowing who was listening in on things. "There is a chance I have already been consulted on the matter," He informed them a moment later, stroking his bearded chin.

"When? You've been here the entire time!" Faro said dubiously. Both of them turned on him, but he gave no indication one way or another. 

It hit Mina much later, when Avard was saying a few words of gratitude for their inevitable alliance prior to the first course of the latemeal. He had known about Vanto having some secondary obligation before Daritzi had mentioned something about wrongs being righted. Of course, she realized. And Vanto, days earlier, had… She was an _idiot._

In reality, she probably should have remembered to eat a late, heavy breakfast to keep up with all the day drinking. 

She still took up that honored position to Avard's right, with Thrawn to her right in turn. Vanto sat across from her, with a slightly flushed Tiphoni to his left, her cheeks stained a sunset gradient, pale blue to a mild indigo from the wine she’d been plied with. Beyond them, Daritzi and Faro were in some sort of heated discussion, and Safrel was waving Afsayja off before she could get involved, to what appeared to be the gratefulness of Eli. 

She was brought back to her more immediate surroundings when Thrawn nudged her under the table, his leg against hers. That was not the usual way. She tilted her head to look between Eli and Avard, the courtyard greenery illuminated by fire-lamps in her more direct sightlines. Her gaze swung right.

He subtly shifted his glass of wine toward her, indicating it was hers if she wanted it, and untouched based on the quantity of liquid in the goblet. She narrowed her gaze to insinuate that there were other issues at hand she was more concerned about - though she would certainly help him if he didn’t want his wine, jarpa wine was the opposite of the fruit, sweet and refreshing with only the slightest hint of tartness that lingered on the tongue - and he gave her a tentative smile. It wasn’t the one of veiled approval or pride he so often graced his former subordinates with, or even the one of private amusement they shared during a particularly infuriating council session.

If she hadn’t been on the cusp of understanding, if she hadn’t put together what Eli had already insinuated, she knew now. She wanted to pull him aside and ask, but there were dishes of tender meats and bread being placed before them. She gave him a tiny quirk of her lips, hoping he could see her desire to talk to him later when there weren’t so many ears around, to be there for him, however he needed, then looked away before it became too obvious. 

In front of her, Eli was offering his own goblet to his tipsy first officer as he quietly suggested she partake of the bread on her plate first, like some indulgent older brother trying to get their younger sibling drunk. Caught looking at him, Eli met her eyes, his gaze fond and mischievous, his dark eyes dancing in the dim golden lights overhead. What even, she thought, wondering if this was some elaborate plan, or perhaps some strange game, one party giving the other clues based on their actions.

She snuck another glance at Thrawn when Avard had called Ivant’s attention away with some story she had heard a million times. With them caught up in it, it was easy to sneak a glance back at Thrawn, see how he was watching Eli laugh at something Avard had said, the human admiral's smile understated and genuine, even as he shook his head ruefully. It was just like that first dinner, those stolen glances and deep observations.

Except, this time, Eli tilted his head to Thrawn during a lull in the conversation, met his gaze with a slow blink and a barely-there smile, holding his former superior’s gaze for several seconds before sipping his water and replying to Avard, something lighthearted about irrationally impatient young officers who had had a lot to learn. He was talking about himself, she realized. It didn’t sound self-deprecating, simply objective, an insight that Avard shared about his own youth, though there had to be at least two decades between them.

It made sense, though Avard was gentle and teasing where Vanto was sarcasm and chivalry. They had similar base qualities - compassion, intelligence, kindness - that put them above so many others who might be considered like them.

The meal progressed in the way such stately affairs were wont to do, the edges softened by seemingly bottomless cups of wine and full bellies. Avard had drawn in Eli’s first officer with his penchant for storytelling, half the table listening - some parties interjecting to add their own commentary - as he wove the details together in that compelling way of his. 

Their plates had been removed and only drinks remained, the far end of the table growing manic and rowdy for this was a celebration, after all. Nights on Yalu were loud and vibrant, dark and lush and warm. They were welcoming in the way daylight wasn’t, intimate and comfortable. These dinner parties so often went until the warmth of the sun had burned off, and even then, occasionally until the sky touched the light of the planet’s sun once more. 

A louder outburst than before was followed by cheers and the sound of glasses clinking. A follow-up came in Cheunh, with laughter and explanations bubbling up as the humans watched on in confusion. Eli sighed good-naturedly, and pushed back his chair. 

"I think that's my cue," He informed Avard, who smiled indulgently as a server filled his empty glass. Avard could easily keep up with the boisterous group at the end of the table, and likely would, if only to see to it they all made it safely to their beds come sunrise. Mina probably wouldn’t last as long before the lines between sleepy and inebriated would blur and she’d head back to her quarters. Her knee wouldn’t hurt thanks to the alcohol. That, at least, was a boone, if nothing else. It was a long walk back to her chambers.

“Hey,” He said, turning in the direction of his officers, giving them a knowing look before speaking in their native tongue - it sounded melodic, but harsh, a warning of sorts. Then in Basic, “Behave yourselves and stay out of trouble.” He patted the shoulder of his very intoxicated first officer and said something else. The only word that sounded like anything to Mina was a name. “Ar’alani.”

It was Safrel, the loud, emotive commander who rose and raised his glass in a toast to his admiral, saying something short in Cheunh, which Eli waved off, cheeks probably darkening for how his first officer tilted her glass his way.

“He is right, Admiral,” Tiphoni said, the sentiment thick with her accent, though her words were understandable. “Thank you.”

“It’s the truth. You’ve all done well,” Eli told them, that earnest honesty so familiar it might have hurt if she’d been more sober. His tone switched to something wry and amused. “Which is why I’m going to leave before anyone starts saying things not meant for the admiral’s ears.” There was a faint chorus of chuckles, both human and Chiss alike. 

He smiled at them, warm and open, fond. Mina couldn’t help but wonder if, in his own way, if Thrawn had ever looked at them like that, hidden behind that mask of aloofness that only ever allowed ever-so-slight twitches of emotion. She didn’t doubt it. They were cut from the same cloth, after all. Two sides of the same coin. 

Mina watched as Eli tipped his head to her and Avard respectfully. Just before he turned away she saw the shift, the way his eyes softened and shined from the golden brasiers overhead. This smile was different, the gesture respectful and unassuming. Layered, somehow, like emotions hidden behind a veil. It wasn’t a question, and yet Mina saw Thrawn shift in response. His eyes didn’t widen, but they almost seemed brighter?

It didn’t hurt to watch the younger human walk away, the sharp cut of his dress whites showing off an impressive, combat-ready figure. She knew for a fact she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t take their eyes off him.

The cheering at the far end of the table continued. Mina turned her head to Avard, not wanting to glance past Thrawn to the celebrating Chiss and Yalunese officers who seemed to be teaching each other toasts - while butchering the Chiss language rather horrifically. 

"They seem to be having a good time," Avard said.

Thrawn looked away from their antics and inclined his head. "They are."

Avard hummed, eyes taking on a wistful sheen. "It is good that they can overcome their differences." No doubt he meant Faro, who had somehow wound up between Safrel and Daritzi, the two Chiss most capable of holding their drink. 

"It is," Thrawn agreed quietly. 

Another hum. Mina had almost entirely lost focus, riding the line between drunk and sleepy, staring out into the distance at the dancing fire in the courtyard's lamps for so long that she had almost missed the conversation unfolding around her. "You can go," Avard had said, so very softly.

Thrawn set down his goblet with a quiet thunk that might have jolted Mina if she wasn't trying so hard to stay still, to keep out of the conversation. The Chiss - their Chiss - exhaled slowly. He did not fidget with the table linens or his glasses. He did not fidget at all. 

But there was something in his hands. Cream colored with a spot of red. She didn't dare look over at it, choosing instead to look toward Avard. He did not reach for the paper, but Thrawn held it out to him anyway. When Avard took it, the exchange happened almost right in front of Mina’s face. 

She frowned. That lifted seal, it looked familiar for some reason that she couldn't quite place. Avard eyed it too, but his expression was bright and knowing. 

"I won't be able to read a word of this, will I?"

"You should," Thrawn returned. "Your skills need refinement and practice."

Setting aside when Thrawn had taught Avard how to read the Chiss language and the inevitable pros and cons of such a decision, she waited to see what expressions would cross Avard's face as he settled in and began to read. It took a while. Whatever script the Chiss used, it was quite complicated. This was entirely intentional, she supposed. Languages and the writing systems associated with them could tell someone a whole lot about the people who used it.

The lack of any expression change was disappointing, but Avard was like Thrawn in that he wore his true expressions in the lines around his eyes, the way his irises glinted green and gold, exotic even for this lush, green place. He rolled the parchment reverently, though parchment wasn’t a rarity beyond the Outer Rim.

“We will support whatever you choose, my friend,” Avard said.

Mina lifted her goblet to her lips, sipping the lukewarm wine left in it to prevent herself from saying or suggesting something she wouldn’t otherwise say without the assistance of the evening’s libations.

The pensive expression on Thrawn’s face was not dark like it so often was. He was really considering it. “It is not that simple,” He said.

“Talk to Eli, then. He’d answer your questions and I know he won’t force you,” She said, and promptly clasped her hands over her mouth to stop talking immediately. 

Thrawn harrumphed quietly, as if he should have known better. "You both knew," He uttered quietly. Relieved.

Her heart hurt, knowing this was the beginning of the end. But how could she not rise to the situation, to support him how he needed even if he didn't know it, much less how to ask? She was not blinded by a grudge. She saw how hard he worked, how even if they couldn't be his first priority, how much he cared for them, for all of his former officers and soldiers, how he made sure that the governing party here was so unlike the one they'd left behind because this ruling party, Hammerly knew, was good. The Yalunese were morally sound.

"I knew," Avard agreed, drawing her back to the conversation at hand. "He wished to be transparent, given our negotiations."

Both of them looked at Mina. She exhaled. "I took tea with him," She said, voice curling upwards. "I-" She sighed. It wasn't like the truth was some unknown now, she'd had no problem blurting out her opinions already. "I asked him. I know he's got his duties and all, but," She smiled, a little bittersweet. "How could he not want to take you home?"

»»——⍟——««

**The Reaches: Wah'ahaunta Nebula, Capital Planet Yalu, Yalu Citadel, Esshimi Palace Diplomatic Suites**

»»——⍟——««

Thrawn often walked the palace halls and gardens at night. The golden lights slowly winked out as the few residents of the palace - staff and advisors alike - retired for the evening, leaving only the muted glow of lamps that burned throughout the night with natural flame. It was beautiful and cool, the most tolerable time of the day-night cycle.

He took the long way around the gardens to the wing that housed guests if only to collect his thoughts in peace and solitude. It, like the rest of the palace, was warm toned with expansive, open balconies. With most everyone at the celebration, it was easy to tell which of the guest residences had been granted to the visiting admiral. It was the only one with the lamps lit, the doors to the balcony cracked open to let the cool night breeze into the space. 

It was, of course, also the largest guest residence, the kind saved for someone of great importance.

The interior walkways were lit intermittently by dull overhead fixtures meant only to help a guest find which room was theirs. It was not the pristine, perfectly maintained military structure that he was used to, but he’d adjusted to it. This planet had its own charms. It was a good place.

Just not _his_ place.

The door at the very end of the hall was open halfway, dim light spilling out into the hall. Thrawn had never been in the diplomatic suite, but he understood that it included a professional space to allow consultation and discussion between a visiting party and their people that backed up to the private quarters and balcony he had passed from the ground level.

Vanto, no, _Ivant_ was speaking with someone, one of his own people, considering they were using Cheunh. Thrawn could hear the sound of low voices from down the hall.

 _“I know you feel out of your depth, Ivant.”_ The first voice was mildly distorted by comm static, making it likely that the conversation was occurring via long-range transmission.

“That’s - it’s not even that. All I did was hand him the letter from Thalias.” He trailed off, sighing.

The person he was talking to chuckled, the sound rich and mellow, like the most expensive whiskey and Thrawn knew with immediate, unwavering certainty that it was Ar’alani. Thrawn pressed a hand against the wall outside the door and stilled, listening. It would not be too late to turn back if he chose to. He had not been noticed. _“Thalias will be pleased. She does not appreciate that you’ve been avoiding her.”_

“She has unrealistic expectations,” Ivant said sternly. “It’s one thing to deliver her judgement, it’s another to-”

_“I know. But he would be a fool if he stayed.”_

“It’s his choice, Ar’alani. No matter what we want. He has a life here.”

 _“This is why I sent you,”_ She admitted. “ _I would tell him what his duty is. I would demand he return to where he can be of the most use to the Ascendancy.”_

“Yes, but you’d say that for the same reason I would,” Ivant pointed out. “We’re selfish.”

Her reply took a while, the comms hissing quietly with static. _“Perhaps I would want to say it to be selfish, but I would say what my duty demands. I do not carry as much of him with me as you, Eli. You have always had a penchant for finding the middle path.”_

“I’ll be honest,” He promised her. “That’s all I can do.”

Thrawn set his knuckles to the door and knocked.

The conversation wrapped up inside the room, Ivant calling a polite request for his visitor to wait a moment before hastily telling Ar'alani that he would contact her in the next cycle. Their communication ended every bit as professional as Thrawn suspected it had begun, Ar'alani shifting back to that infinitely more regal and authoritative tone she used on the bridge of her ship.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Ivant said, coming to the door. His eyes were level with Thrawn's collarbones, so he tipped his head back. "Ah." His cheeks flushed, but he did not otherwise act embarrassed.

"How is Ar'alani?" Thrawn asked, instead of the myriad other things he could have, instead of beginning the conversation they should be having.

The human smiled almost indulgently, likely aware that this, despite however much Thrawn had overheard, was a safer discussion topic. Thrawn immediately despised himself for it. "Busy. The amount of red tape at the top is horrifying and we're not even at war with each other anymore."

That, Thrawn suspected, was an accidental segue if he had ever heard one, but Ivant's flush had not shifted. Intentional, then. Another invitation to ask, to be drawn in and allowed to see. He waited, intent on seeing what this familiar, yet unfamiliar Vanto- _Ivant_ would do.

He waited. If he was uncomfortable at all - if he knew how long Thrawn had been listening (and he should have assumed that Thrawn had heard everything he’d said, Thrawn had instructed him in this many, many times) - he did not act like it. His emotions were unknown.

Even in his overheard conversation he did not seem to waver. It was Ar’alani who had assumed him to feel unsteady. He had brushed it off, but he had not fought her on it, had not grown uncomfortable when she continued in a way that suggested she did not believe him. He had grown more comfortable in his footing, in his nuances and humanity. He had grown wiser, more experienced.

“If you wish to study me like one of your artworks, I won’t stop you,” Eli informed him. It was a light tone, a little exasperated, but suffused with an underlying warmth to suggest he took no offense. His Cheunh, as Thrawn had noted, was flawless. “But if you’d like to talk, maybe we could do a few laps around the grounds so none of my drunken officers try to come find me in the process.”

Thrawn’s questioning glance left Ivant chuckling to himself. It wasn’t until he stepped back from the doorway to allow Ivant to join him in the hall that he caught the true weight of the other man’s smile. When Ivant turned to close the door behind him, Thrawn allowed himself a private one of his own.

»»——⍟——««

Things were different, now. Not the charged recognition from earlier this afternoon that Eli had diverted by cutting Thrawn off and showing his hand. They walked in a companionable silence, away from the dining hall the banquet had been held in. Thrawn guided them towards the long, loping walkway through the palace lawns. Night birds called to each other in the distance, and though the walkway itself was not lit, the moon was bright enough to see by, pale pink and iridescent overhead. 

In the moonlight, Eli saw the silver glint of gray at Thrawn’s temples. The former grand admiral was more slender than he remembered, though Eli’s memory was likely stained by admiration. He had no doubt Thrawn had not deviated from his training regimen if he could help it.

It was posture, Eli realized after a time. His shoulders were more rounded, curled in. There had been moments where he looked every bit as regal as he always had, and yet he held himself below others. He thought of his conversation with Hammerly, about Thrawn’s damaged relationship with Faro. Thrawn’s silence when he should have been ordering Eli to debrief him.

He inhaled, held it, let the breath go.

“Do you like it here?” Eli asked. “It’s beautiful.”

“They’ve fought hard to make it so,” Thrawn answered after a time.

Eli hummed, let them continue until Thrawn silently indicated they should go towards the interior of the palace, stepping through a doorless entryway. Still nothing of himself. Fine. 

It was darker in the palace, the glow of Thrawn’s eyes rivaling the dimmed fire-lamps. “Why did they send you?” Thrawn asked.

“My fleet was prepared for battle. I was called back to Csilla after action over Rentor, and Ar’alani tends to stay close to Csilla unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Thrawn looked down at him but said nothing.

Eli sighed. “I’ve been responsible for securing the Reaches and our borders while Ar’alani organizes the rest of the admirals back home.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“A bit,” He agreed. “You have, too. We knew it was you when the missive came, even if it was Faro who sent it.”

Silence, again. They exited the palace’s main walkway before it met the courtyards and the dining hall. Voices could be heard in the distance, the celebration in full swing. Eli caught on to Thrawn’s pathway before he took it, diverting them toward the gardens and a staircase that went up to the balcony level where he’d had tea with Hammerly days earlier.

“Thurfian denied me the first time.”

“Urf’ianico was a traitor. He did not deserve to share your family’s name.” Eli’s nostrils flared, an automatic, unstoppable response. He had no doubt his eyes matched his tone: sharp and angry. 

Thrawn stopped in his tracks, blinked at Eli owlishly. He was, while not in any spectacularly obvious way, caught off guard. “Were you involved in his downfall?”

“I stirred the pot mostly just by existing,” He admitted, “Thalias fulfilled her obligation to your family. They overlap a bit, but we both have our theatres of war, so to speak.”

"You have always been too modest for your own good," Thrawn chided softly. "I had hoped the two of you might cross paths."

"I'm glad we did." 

This time - finally, Eli thought - the silence felt comfortable instead of strained and awkward, no longer discordant. It wasn't long before they had completed the path, approaching the diplomatic suites. 

"The celebration will be winding down by now," Thrawn informed him. "If you are attempting to thwart any run-ins with your subordinates, I would not suggest another circuit."

"I'd like to keep talking to you," Eli said.

Thrawn's eyes glittered in the dark, their glow staining his regal cheekbones. He looked up at the balcony to what must have been Eli's room, then turned his back to it entirely. "Come, Admiral Ivant," He beckoned, polite as ever.

Eli bit back his comment on how strange it sounded, how impersonal it felt to have Thrawn call him by his core name. He didn't mind it. He appreciated that he had assimilated well enough, even in his early days, to be pulled into Chiss cultural norms. But this was Thrawn. This was someone who did not only know him as Ivant. 

He had not given up his name, not like a Chiss would have, upon reaching flag rank. But the Ascendancy was cognizant of what he had given up, the more permanent connections both to his family, and to his people are a whole. To them, it had been enough.

Still, out of respect, he preferred not to go by Vanto. 

They took a different path, one that led to the interior of the palace and beyond. Instead of leading him through the courtyard walkway past the dining hall, Thrawn took him through an ancillary passageway likely used by palace attendants considering its proximity to the still bustling kitchens. Thrawn had always excelled at sneaking around, at avoiding detection when he truly wished to be unbothered, and Eli knew he likely had every secret corridor mapped out in his mind.

Before long they crossed back into the night, stole across a pathway of smoothstone, and entered another building. These were different from the diplomatic residences, set away from the goings on of the palace. These were true domestiles, designed to be lived in long term. Eli had little doubt that the ornate doors at the end of the hallway on the ground level opened into whatever chambers the magistrate kept, but Thrawn guided them to the upper level using a staircase instead of a lift, left mostly open to the elements. There were only three doors on this level, and it was the first that opened to Thrawn’s biometrics.

Thrawn motioned for him to enter first and he did, reaching down to unlace his boots before he came too far into the space. This was a residence, not a star destroyer’s cabin. Nothing about the entry or even the sitting room was terribly personal at first glance. Thrawn did not keep any momentos in his personal space, seemingly transient even in this place he’d occupied for years now.

“Please,” Thrawn said. “Sit.”

The balcony beyond the sitting area overlooked the jungle, facing away from the rest of the palace and even the city. It was probably one of few places Thrawn could truly seclude himself. Eli blinked away from the outdoors and back to the open, minimalist design of the sitting room, two plush chairs and a medium sized couch, a long table between them.

And there, signs of life existed in flimsi and datapads, organized in a way only Thrawn could understand. He smiled at them. Thrawn appeared meticulous in public, but he had always been a busy man, and his version of organization was a chaos that suited him.

Thrawn hovered. He considered Eli, eyes narrowing. “I can prepare tea,” He offered.

“Not necessary on my account,” Eli said. “Really,” And Thrawn nodded to himself, turning away from a wide doorway that led into what must have been a small kitchen. Eli refused to make some menial, useless comment on the space while Thrawn sat down, so the seconds wound down in silence until the couch dipped a little, tiny shockwaves sent out as the Chiss took the other end, the space between them just small enough that it could not harbor another person.

The couch was comfortable in the way lived in things were. The space was warm, but not too warm, and the moonlight cast enough of a glow that Thrawn had not bothered lighting any of the lamps much less the overhead lights.

“May I ask you something?" 

Eli blinked at him. Thrawn didn't look hesitant, exactly, but… okay, maybe he did. "Anything."

Thrawn looked down at his hands, then curled them, folding them in his lap. "Do you regret the path I chose for you?"

His choice of words was deliberate. It insinuated that Thrawn was to blame for any ill will Eli might have felt towards the then unbelievable change in his already surprising career. 

"You offered me a choice, if I remember correctly," Eli began, because Thrawn _had_ told him it was both unsanctioned and entirely optional. "What would have happened if I refused?"

Thrawn's lips thinned. "I knew you wouldn't."

Well, Eli thought to himself, at least he was honest about it. "I think that says a lot more about me than it does about you.” He reclined back in his seat, then chanced a glance at his former admiral from the corner of his eye. “We already knew you were capable of reading people."

“That is not an answer.”

“You haven’t asked me a real question. In my mind, you gave me a choice.”

“Semantics.”

Eli huffed. Again. “You’d never asked me to do something for you before,” He finally said, not making eye contact. His eyes found the far wall, narrowed as he reflected upon his memories. “And before you argue that, I know you didn’t ask me for your own sake. But the point is that you asked me. And nobody else might have understood what that meant, but I did.” He let his head recline against the top of the couch, gaze tilted toward the ceiling. “Even at my lowest, I never regretted my path. Even if I meant nothing to you, I knew that if nothing else, you’d chosen me because there was something I could do that even you couldn’t.” 

“You don’t,” Thrawn said, when several moments had passed. His voice was stilted and rough. “Mean nothing.” The ‘to me’ went unsaid, but Eli heard it anyway.

“I know.”

Thrawn exhaled. He said, “I wish to return to the Ascendancy.” He did not elaborate further.

Eli nodded. “Then I will take you home.”

There was relief - Eli _was_ relieved - but he wasn't surprised. Of course Thrawn would come back with him. He would go back if it had been Ar'alani or Khresh or Samakro, hell, if it had been someone he hadn't known.

And yet, the longer the moment stretched out between them, the wider the feeling got. Thrawn was watching him, intent but intense. His eyes blazed despite the dull white light of the moon through the expansive windows looking over the jungle and balcony. Eli turned toward him instead of looking away.

"What?"

"What would you have done if I said no?"

"I would have left you in peace."

"You would have," Thrawn mused, and Eli almost swore the tone of his voice was _disappointed_? Had he always kept these nuances back, or had Eli been blind? He knew it probably had to be a combination of both. They weren't the people they'd been last time they saw each other.

Eli decided it truly was for the best.

"You're baiting me again." Eli's eyebrows went up in an expressive combination of suspicion and exasperation. "You do understand that there is a difference between what I would do and what I would _want_ to do."

Thrawn seemed to tilt his head, wordlessly beckoning him to continue. He'd grown closer, or perhaps the distance wasn't as great as he had thought. It didn't matter. It was clear he was interested in the topic of discussion.

And that was fine. Eli had given a great deal of thought to what he wanted to do regarding Thrawn, seeing as he had also had a great deal of time to do so. Perhaps the night would find those truths - the ones he had found echoed in an old datapad, the words that weren't said but were meant, and the ones that were but he had been too self-defeating to understand - but Eli wasn't going to lead off with that.

"I might have taken a page out of your book and just taken you back with me regardless of your opinion."

"You would have had to convince me."

"You mean I would have had to guilt you into it."

"You would have had to use logic."

"Sure," He snorted. "I could have explained to you the military and dogmatic revisions of the Ascendancy first, _then_ laid the largest guilt trip in all the galaxy about duty and honor and responsibility."

"You did not think it would be effective?"

That wasn't true at all. It would've been more than enough. It would have been what anyone else would have done. "In my mind, no one better understands honor or duty than you do. I know what you have done for your people," Eli's eyes narrowed, and he knew this look was new to Thrawn, the one that invited the other party to point out where he was wrong if they could, even though they most likely wouldn't. "I know what you continue to do for them, even now."

"You don't."

"I do," Pushed Eli. " I've seen how you look at them. You know which ones are yours, and I'm sure if I asked Mina, she'd tell me you're passing along info on who would be better used elsewhere or who has potential. And I'm sure Faro listens to that advice even as she curses you for giving it."

Thrawn frowned at that. 

"What I'm saying," Eli circled back, "Is that you know. I could have given you the Ascendancy's version of a pep talk, but that's not how I do things." He smiled a little. "You need to know what you want."

"I do," Thrawn said assuredly, voice barely a whisper, "But you have yet to answer the question. What did you _want_ to do?"

Eli looked at him, how he was leaning forward, engaged, eyes bright and very nearly unguarded. He felt a yank in his gut and he didn't fight that feeling, owning it for what it was. He had had so long to think about what he wanted, all the things he felt but hadn't said, how the gravity of those feelings had only gotten stronger when he was on his own. He had been forced to reconcile the Thrawn he knew - brilliant, umatched, infuriating (but secretly kind) - with the brutal, ill-fitting and chaotic man the Ascendancy had banished. He saw both, now.

He had wanted... He _still_ wanted to leave nothing unsaid.

Eli laid his left hand to Thrawn's cheek, ring and little fingers curling under his jaw, "I wanted to be selfish," He admitted, then leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was demanding. It said _Where have you been?_ and _Do you know how long I've been waiting for you?_ and it tasted like longing and misunderstandings, bittersweet yet sacred, the culmination of years.

Thrawn pulled at him with equal fervor and before Eli knew it he was half sprawled atop the Chiss in a furious tangle of lips and teeth and tongues. Something here, something between them, something inside them both had broken open, split wide with all its imperfections on display. It was ugly and it was beautiful and it was theirs alone so Eli revelled in it.

"Ivant," Thrawn said, when at last he'd pulled away. He frowned. 

"Eli," He corrected, keeping that one hand on the Chiss' face. Thrawn had never called Eli only by his given name. He had never called anyone so informally, that Eli could recall. So when Thrawn met his gaze, he smiled, watching as the other man weighed the name in his mind. 

"Eli," Thrawn confirmed as he pulled back, looking down into his eyes, to the likely orange-red glow of his cheeks and bitten lips in the infrared. It felt right.

The next time, Thrawn kissed him, fingers curled around the high collar of his white tunic. It was gentler than the first, probing and curious. Thrawn’s mouth was hot, like a humans might have been, but it was different. It tasted different. His teeth were sharper, his tongue rougher, all efficiency with the potential for ruthlessness. But he wasn’t. He was… gentle. Without expectations.

Adjusting himself so he wasn’t sprawled awkwardly across Thrawn’s lap, Eli managed to thread his fingers through the thick, well-kept hair at the base of Thrawn’s skull, palm on the nape of his neck feeling that blue skin under his collar warming at the prolonged touch. Thrawn shuddered against him, pulling back, pressing his forehead to Eli’s.

Eli tugged his hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get him to open his eyes enough that their red glow highlighted splotches of dark color on his cheeks. His hands slid gracefully down Eli’s back, settling at the small of it, palms curling around his hips, fingers fanning in toward his spine. His hold was strong, but careful. 

He blinked like he hadn’t realized his eyes had slipped closed, that his focus hadn’t been reduced to cataloging each and every sensation. “What is it?” Thrawn asked him, sounding half awed, distracted by that which he’d been studying. Eli took the opportunity to rake his fingers through Thrawn’s hair, to watch the way his eyelids fluttered, how each brush of the pads of his fingers against skin made him come to life more than he’d ever been. He was vibrant, beyond the blue of his skin and the red of his eyes and the not quite black of his hair, streaked silver at the temples by stress and stolen time.

"Is this okay?"

Thrawn leaned his head back, luxuriating in the touch, the way Eli's hand cradled his skull. "I am unused to it," Thrawn said, "But it is not unwelcome."

Eli wanted to worship him. Eli wanted to touch him everywhere, every expanse of smooth blue skin, every scar. It was a hot feeling, like kindling set alight, smoke curling into an open sky. It was not the admiration of a subordinate for his former superior, for the past. It was one soul calling another, a bond that would transcend. It was something new. It was like beginning again.

He let his hands fall away from Thrawn's scalp and neck. From this angle they were face to face, breathing faster from adrenaline and anticipation. He leaned back, centering his weight over Thrawn's thighs, his own legs bracketing them. 

"May I?" He asked, fingers lightly brushing the clasps at Thrawn's collar.

It was a loaded question. Thrawn swallowed, throat bobbing against the back of Eli's knuckles. "By all means," He said, with the air of someone gracious but unaware of his partner's real intent.

Eli wasn't convinced by that tone, shuffling back and off of the man beneath him. Thrawn watched him with a slighted expression, looking up at him where he stood.

"You understand what I'm asking you, right?"

The slighted look became a full-blown scowl.

Yeah, he didn't. "I'm not asking you if you want to…" He trailed off. Thrawn was interested, he wouldn't be clawing at Eli's back and grabbing at his hips like he wanted the delicious friction there for the taking. Thrawn's eyes only narrowed, a wordless demand for him to state what he meant and state it clearly. 

"I don't do casual," Eli said. "Not like Chiss do. I won't share, and I _won't_ be satisfied if this is a one time thing." His voice rose with every word, a growling tone that grew in his chest with the possessiveness Cheunh was made for. Declarations. Dominance.

Eli had been surprised at the way Chiss treated intimacy. It was private, but it was casual all the same. Relationships of all kinds were not uncommon, but social structures placed little value on the individual unit, and that left things fluid. Eli could not and would not be capable of that. He felt too deeply.

Thrawn looked at him, and Eli thought now he was looking at the present, at the man who stood in front of him and not a spectre of their shared past. "There are some human precedents I prefer," He said quietly.

"As long as we're on the same page," Eli told him.

"I believe we are," Thrawn confirmed. "Though I am surprised you did not find it freeing."

"There's nothing freeing about wanting someone light-years away," Eli said. "Nor did I want to be."

"You are more than I deserve, Eli Vanto," He said, rising to his full height, Eli's eyes level with his sternum. It felt like a wave cresting when the Chiss tipped his head back with both hands and kissed him.

Eli kept it brief, hands coming up over Thrawn's shoulders tangled together behind his neck. "No," Eli refuted, because Thrawn really had no idea of his worth. Not to the galaxy, not to the Ascendancy, and certainly not to Eli. That was something Eli could only begin to convey, but he would damn sure try. "Let me show you what you deserve."

»»——⍟——««

Thrawn had never anticipated this. He had wanted: Oh, he had pushed those thoughts and feelings so far down, deep into the darkest, untouched recesses of his mind and it had worked for a time. And then Eli Vanto had come back into his life not as a subordinate but as an equal. Established. Comfortable with his being in a way only time and space could allow and now past and present were at a head, and for every similarity to the young officer he remembered there was an equal difference.

He had known there was something between them years ago. Had known he cared more deeply for his aide than decorum or duty should have allowed. He had not meant to start caring about the younger man's emotions, his successes, and his enrichment. He had not meant to see their similarities beyond their usefulness to his plans.

But fate, or perhaps fortune, had favored him anyway. Eli Vanto had been a detour his path had so desperately needed. He had been something, someone who Thrawn had wanted to hold onto, even if he couldn't or shouldn't. The memory of him had lived in Thrawn's mind after they had parted, and had been a subconscious solace he could draw upon far more often than he allowed himself to realize. 

He had told Vanto that if one were remembered by a friend, they were never truly gone. That a piece of him would remain with those whose lives he had touched, and vice versa. It was a comfort, for the both of them, and for the rare, true comrades Thrawn had left behind.

No amount of preparation or planning could have prepared Thrawn for Eli's reappearance in his life, much less how Eli had executed a nearly flawless assault on their enemies while inviting him to see.

"Was it on purpose?'" He asked, and Eli pulled back from him, lips bright and plush, his heat-bright tongue and teeth swiping over the bottom one.

"Was what on purpose?" His voice had trailed lower like his fingers, the clasps securing Thrawn's tunic long since undone. 

"The formation."

Eli grinned. "You liked that, huh?"

Thrawn made a rumbling sound in the back of his throat, an inhuman growl that was telling enough. 

"To be fair, the math worked out that way," He said thoughtfully. "Six points would be enough in most situations, but a seven-pointed star is optimal."

"Optimal how?" Thrawn said.

The human chuckled, a molten baritone that felt like the burn of whiskey, a heat in Thrawn's belly. "The vectors and triangulation assay are compelling." His words darkened. It was thrilling. He whispered, "More compelling was how much it pissed off the Syndicure at the time."

The back of Thrawn's legs hit the bed, but he sank onto it, adding distance between them, chin tilted up to meet Eli's gaze. "Is that so?"

"I suppose I could have called it a staggered formation," His smile was sarcastic, a little hungry. "I did not choose seven points for the Mitth. And I wanted them to know." He sized Thrawn up, waiting. Allowing him to draw his conclusions.

Eli had goals Thrawn had yet to discover. His original objective, Thrawn knew now, was only a starting point. He had found his own path. He was his own person. 

Even so: Look, Eli was saying. Look at this piece of you I chose to carry with me.

Thrawn reached for him. "Eli," He said, voice rough. Wrecked. Coming undone.

"I know, " Eli said, closing the distance between them once more. "I know."

So he did, Thrawn thought, and when he succumbed to Eli's will, it did not feel like a loss of control.

Eli helped him out of his tunic, unnecessary but pleasant, smoothing his hands down Thrawn's arms past where his undershirt's sleeves ended, the touch neither gentle or rough. Thrawn squeezed his fists and Eli nipped at his lower lip, fingers squeezing his forearms and the hard muscles there. Yes, Eli relished his physical prowess. He always had. 

But more than that, Thrawn enjoyed the firm grip Eli had on him, the grounding, steady presence of him, the human warmth that bled through his white tunic against Thrawn's chin, the top of his chest. Eli paused, letting Thrawn expertly undo the buckle and clasp of his platinum trimmed uniform sash, let it clink beside them on the bed with a sound like mounting anticipation. Emboldened, the Chiss slipped his hands beneath the hem and pressed up and apart, swiftly parting his immaculate tunic to see the soft, thin undershirt beneath. It clung to muscle, showed the shape of a warrior, compact and lean.

There would be time to explore later, with less clothing in the way. That much was certain. 

He shivered unconsciously at the feeling of fingers against his sides. Eli withdrew immediately, eyes wide and warm with concern. "Alright?"

Thrawn cursed himself, and his traitorous body. "Fine," He hissed.

Eli frowned. "Thrawn-"

"It is an old injury," He said. "You'll see. My reaction is not intentional." 

But he had dressed and seen to these wounds himself. At the time it had felt like penance, what was right. He had survived, and he would live. No one had ever seen, much less touched the scars that remained. His skin was sensitive, mottled and marbled and smooth, yet uneven. Pieced together. 

"Take your shirt off?" Eli asked of him, half question, half command. 

He did so, but Eli's eyes did not leave his face, did not trail down in silent inquiry. He smiled at Thrawn, tossing the garment aside, atop his sash. 

Eli gestured down at the bed. "Lay down with me?"

Thrawn pushed himself back, moving to give room, half reclined in the pillows. Scarring aside, he knew he was appealing. He knew scars told stories, were a sort of art all their own. He could see them as a story of failure, and perhaps, for a long time, he had. But Eli was looking at him differently, eyes glinting a little wild. Eli looked at him like he was a survivor. The galaxy had thrown so much at him, yet here he was.

Here, they both were.

The bed dipped when Eli laid on his side, less than an arm's length between them. "I always thought this would happen in some cramped bunk in one of our cabins," He said.

"You are an admiral."

"You live in a palace," Eli prodded, gesturing around them.

It was easy to fall into this banter. Eli's sarcasm was a balm, light and teasing. "I live on the palace grounds, " Thrawn corrected. "There is a difference."

"Uh-huh." 

"I assure you, my residence is the least resplendent."

"With a view like this?" He gestured toward the set of doors that led to the expansive balcony that spanned the outer perimeter of his domicile. It had two entry points, one in the living and another in the sleeping area of the space. The view of the jungle was pleasant. 

Thrawn's eyes gleamed. "A coincidence."

Eli laughed, easy and honest. It chafed against the jagged pieces of himself that Thrawn had kept hidden behind an impeccable facade. Time had dulled the edges somewhat, but this smoothed them over, filled in the cracks. Eli let himself fall back against the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

They let the silence creep in like the cool night air from the open windows.

"We didn't need to stop," Thrawn said, after a while.

"We don't need to hurry," Eli countered. He tilted his head toward Thrawn, eyes like stoked coals, hunger and want pushed down but not abated. "Not that I'd stop you."

"Of that," Thrawn said, eyes flashing, "I was certain."

Eli gave him a look, the slightest wiggle of his shoulders - an insinuation that he should start something he wouldn't want to stop - and in a blink Thrawn was on him.

"Oh," Came the punched out groan from the man beneath him, "Yes, please."

It felt good, felt right to have Eli pressed against him like this. Want boiled in Thrawn's blood, from the back of his neck to his toes, to the fingers he'd laced with Eli's, pinned up and over his head. Eli kissed him like it was a battle, patient at first, but it became clear that he’d planned several steps ahead.

He pulled his hands out from under Thrawn’s, meeting no resistance, then drew himself up, only breaking the kiss when Thrawn’s center of gravity shifted more completely and he was kneeling around Eli’s legs with the human sitting up before him.

“Can I touch?” Eli asked, eyes not straying from Thrawn’s. Thrawn knew what he was asking as his thumbs rubbed back and forth across Thrawn’s shoulder, making his stomach lurch with something new and pleasant. It had been so long since he’d had the option of being intimate with someone, much less the desire - be it mental or physical attraction - to properly recall the way it felt with acute sharpness.

“You need not ask,” Thrawn said with the utmost honesty. He would let Eli do as he wanted. He wanted to know what Eli’s vision of pleasure was, how he fit into it, how they would fit together.

“I’m going to ask anyway,” Eli said, lips hovering at his jaw, breath whispering over Thrawn’s right ear. His eyes slipped closed as Eli continued, murmuring, “Too rough?” 

There was stubble on his cheek that would be sandy brown in the daylight but seemed invisible in the near-dark. Up close, his eyes open to slivers, Thrawn could see it. But only after Eli had nuzzled his cheek and the burn had lit up Thrawn’s synapses, had made his cheeks hot in a way nothing ever had.

“No,” Thrawn said, voice rushed. “Continue.”

The other cheek next, and Thrawn’s fists were clenched tight at his sides, all of him tensing, waiting for the next bit of sensation, for whatever Eli had planned for him. After a moment, there was breath on his lips, another kiss. Soft. No tongue. Chaste. A different pace. He opened his eyes.

“Lay back for me,” Eli said, voice barely a rumble, like a coming storm. It had the whisper of a command, but Thrawn could sense it was a question. “Please.”

Start and stop. Fast, then slow. A wave, building.

Thrawn wanted to drown in it. He wanted to lose himself in this man, the only man in all the galaxy who might actually understand him. Wherever Thrawn was, Eli faced him. Fluid. Balanced. Give and take, a feedback loop completed.

He reclined against the pillows at the head of the bed, arms out at his side, the same pose as before, yet entirely different. There was a weight to his body he couldn’t deny, a languor he’d never felt before. 

“This is-”

“Yeah,” He confirmed, eyes alight, like Thrawn had given him free reign of the universe. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

He would not want Eli to stop. His fingers trailed from Thrawn’s temples to his jaw, down his shoulders and arms. He slowed, tucked his face into Thrawn’s neck. Here, Eli was rougher, biting lightly, sucking a bloom into his skin that would be indigo-violet come morning. He laved at it with his tongue when he’d finished, after Thrawn’s back had arched in a heady mix of pain and pleasure that was quickly - immediately - overwhelming.

“Easy,” Eli said, hands trailing down, over bare chest, over scars that didn’t matter because something far more demanding was unfurling inside him.

Too fast. It was too fast, he realized. They had barely- It was absurd. This should not - it was certainly not how he imagined this going. He should have been the one in control. He should have been the one leading Eli to that edge. 

In another life, in the one he had left behind, maybe that would have been the way. This Eli was calm while Thrawn unraveled, steady where Thrawn felt adrift. He could see how Eli’s trousers were tented, his muscles clenched and dimly awash with heat. Eli’s desire was obvious, but he owned it. It was not his priority.

“Do you trust me?” Eli asked him.

His answer was immediate, “Yes.”

“Then trust me to know what you need.” Eli’s gaze was stern. Not demanding - not asking anything of him, really.

Thrawn blinked up at him, eyes surely half glazed with want. His chest was heaving, body coiled, primed. It would be easy to give himself over to sensation, he thought. It certainly wouldn’t take much at all. 

“Okay?” Eli asked, eyebrows rising. He didn’t elaborate, or draw out the conversation, refusing to let the urgency of the sensations fall away.

Thrawn nodded, swallowing hard as if he'd just sealed his fate. In a way, he had. Eli’s eyes seemed to flash, He kissed Thrawn almost chastely, plush lips pressed to hjs. It didn’t seem like he’d go further, but then he was pressing a thumb into the dark mark he’d made earlier. Thrawn moaned, lips parting, liking that dull pain, his mind brought back to how it had been inflicted. Eli swiped at Thrawn’s lips with his tongue, swallowing another sound. Thrawn hardly remembered being vocal, but he couldn’t remember the reverse, either. It didn’t matter. No one else could hear him. Everything seemed louder than it was in the otherwise perfect silence of the room.

"Eli-"

He withdrew, pressing his lips against the shell of Thrawn's ear, nuzzling that same spot on his neck before pressing an open-mouthed kiss over it. "I've wanted this for so long, " He whispered, dragging his mouth upward so every word was private.

"How?" Thrawn asked, voice strained. If there was something Eli wanted, Thrawn would give it to him. It was the least he could do, he wasn't doing much of anything-

"I didn't think about it," Eli admitted. "I've gotten off just thinking about how you look at me," He admitted. 

His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes clear. He was being honest. "You give me too much credit."

"Nah. You don't give yourself enough." Eli's hands wandered down again, fingertips leaving scorching trails in their wake, running hard over one peaked nipped, then the other and further down. "You deserve more," He said, lips following the path of his hands. He peppered salacious kisses as he went, sliding down to properly reach the scars on his abdomen, mapping every line and blemish and mark against his milk-blue skin, causing Thrawn to bite back a different sound. 

It was an inhuman sound, somewhere between a hiss and a whine, but Eli didn't look up at him as some strangled echo of it escaped. He didn't seem to be paying attention, consumed in what he was doing. And what he was doing was making Thrawn’s abdomen clench and his synapses scream from the pleasurable input. His fingers brushed the skin above Thrawn’s trousers, a soft, grazing blow that punched a sound from him, 

"Thrawn," Eli hummed, nuzzling again, his cheeks sending heat lower than before. The unmarred skin of his lower abdomen was more sensitive than he'd realized, and all Eli would have to do was tilt his head and he would be faced with the evidence of Thrawn's want. "Will you let me do this for you?" He asked, the words barely a whisper. "Please?" He liked his lips, like he was the one salivating for a taste, like Thrawn had been pulling him apart, and not the other way around. "I'll make it good-"

Thrawn's voice was rougher than he'd expected. "You already have," He said tightly. "It won't take much."

"No," Eli agreed, "Not this time. There will be others, though."

His red eyes snapped open. No. This wasn't the only time, this wouldn't be their only opportunity, it would simply be the first. Eli had told him. Eli wouldn't be satisfied. Eli knew - Eli knew that… that he, that-

Eli had barely cupped him through his trousers and he was coming, back arching sharply, hips rocking against the mild pressure of Eli squeezing him, his cock pulsing, so sensitive to everything - his undergarments and the heavier line of sealing strips keeping his trousers closed, the _heat_ of Eli's hand as he rocked it against him, coaxing him through the echoes of climax. 

»»——⍟——««

He was so hard it hurt. If he so much as rocked against the bed with any purpose, it would very likely be over. And unlike Thrawn, whose body was newly reacquainted with the feeling of orgasm and would charge eagerly toward another, Eli knew he would only have the one.

And it would be phenomenal, whether it was from rutting against Thrawn's bedsheets much less anything else. This was enough. 

"Best view in the galaxy," He thought aloud, voice humming with more than a little awe. He could feel the heat snap to his cheeks when Thrawn's refocused gaze landed on him and shrugged. "What? You know you're easy on the eyes," He gestured.

Thrawn shook his head, but it was with an amused twinkle in his eyes rather than a refusal. His cheeks were flushed, too. Eli nudged his thigh with his knee and grinned.

"Pants off," He said.

"You are still dressed," Thrawn replied, but he was already reaching for the sealing strips at his waist. He shuddered as he pulled himself free of the mess he'd made, his cock half hard and so very sensitive.

"Fine," Said Eli, yanking his undershirt over his head, letting it fall somewhere. He didn't pay attention to where. Probably on the floor.

Thrawn’s gaze was sharp, but he had gotten less than a blink at his lover's bare chest before that chest was pressed against his hairless legs. Eli's tongue darted out, breath ghosting over the head of his cock. Thrawn shuddered, waving a hand in acceptance before Eli's dark eyes rose to meet him in a silent question.

"Fuck," Eli said at the taste of him, salty-sweet, and settled in like a man dying of hunger. 

He'd positioned himself between Thrawn's parted legs, mostly laying down, shins and feet hanging off the bed, his head pillowed on a rock-solid thigh. Yes, this was exactly what the other man needed, eyes shut, body loose. His posture held alertness rather than fatigue, but coming had taken the edge off. Eli licked at him, kissing and nosing at his length, setting several softer kisses lower in exploration, gentle inquiry. 

Stars, Eli loved this, loved touching and tasting, slowly bringing Thrawn back to that perfectly aroused state. Cool fingertips brushed his forehead, sunk into his hair, not pulling, but curious. Thrawn’s hair was more silky-smooth than Eli’s, but Eli’s was softer, like most everything about humans compared to Chiss. Those clever fingers trailed down to his lips, soft, not taking, merely curious. It only lasted a moment and Thrawn was sitting up, cock bobbing with the motion but not insistent enough for him to pay it any mind. His fingers gripped Eli’s shoulders, and though he could have easily manhandled Eli, yanked him up alongside him, he did not.

“Come here,” He said, instead.

Eli did. He pulled his knees up and crawled back to the space at Thrawn’s side, his long arm stretched out, creating a place for him to fit into. All of his actions were more sedate, but purposeful, from the arm that came around his back, fingers clutching at the top of his hip, to the inhale at his temple, as if taking a long, deep drink, and finally the way he focused his gaze on Eli’s lips before he kissed them. 

The way Eli groaned in response to Thrawn’s definitely unplanned moan was yet another tipping point. Thrawn must have realized he could taste himself and there was something filthy about that, something primal Eli couldn’t help but be keyed up about as well. Thrawn did not roll him back into the sheets, did not try to pin him down, to cage his body. Eli wouldn’t have minded, but he had gotten the succinct feeling he was in control here and that was alright, too. 

Thrawn propped himself up on an elbow, left hand skittering down the planes of his chest like brushstrokes, mapping out each expanse of muscle, the dips of long-faded scars. “Blaster,” Thrawn would comment idly, lips pressed to his jaw, nose buried in his hair, eyes sharp and scanning Eli’s body with a downward glance. “Knife.”

“Something like that,” Eli said. “Think it was a letter-opener,” He drawled, sighing against the probing touch before looking up into that stormy, knowing gaze. “I’ll tell you later,” He said. “It’s not nearly as exciting as you’d think.”

The Chiss hummed, nose brushing his ear and it was perfectly electric, made him stretch out, desiring more contact. His fingers brushed down against the jut of Eli’s hipbone, but didn’t stray lower, skimming the waist of his trousers before returning to his sternum and following the ridge it created further down. There were other scars. Thrawn touched them with the same reverence Eli had given him, cataloging each one for further study and later inspection. He moved, ducking down to take one flat nipple into his mouth, tweaking it with his tongue. Eli jerked, exhaling shakily.

“Too much?”

“Tickles,” Eli said. “Harder.”

Thrawn bit him, not hard, but enough. “Better?”

“Yeah. That’s good.”

Satisfied, Thrawn moved on. He didn’t squeeze Eli’s pecs so much as he ran his fingers down the muscle, teasing his nipples to heightened sensitivity. Reactions were interesting to him. The after-effects of each touch, the response Eli gave. But there was only so much patience he had, and Eli could see it. Eli’s own patience was wearing thin, too, but he would let Thrawn carry on for as long as he wanted, even if it did him in.

He felt like he’d waited a lifetime to be in this moment. In some ways, maybe he did. He leaned his chin on his palm and watched Thrawn’s face as he touched him, the severity of his forehead and cheeks, the glowing gravity of his eyes. They had both waited for so long. Never knowing for sure, only hoping that the other understood.

Thrawn’s cock was hot against his leg, and when the Chiss moved, Eli could feel the hitch in his breath when it rubbed against his uniform pants, wet and increasingly more insistent. He smiled, then gasped a little when Thrawn caught on and dipped his thumb beneath the line of his pants, fingers skimming gently over heated flesh.

“You don’t happen to have any-” He realized it was probably a stupid question and stopped. Not that Thrawn couldn't have any partners, but Eli knew, being his equal and opposite in so many ways meant that he likely hadn't had any use for it. Chiss were not prude when it came to self pleasure, but this Chiss needed mental stimulation far more than physical. It wasn't the action of Eli's touch that undid him, it was that Eli was doing it. Eli's thoughtful intent. His desire, reciprocated. 

But Thrawn had already rolled over, opening a drawer beside the bed. The bottle was nearly full and non-descript. He extended it to Eli in the way one passed a loaded gun. In a way, it almost was.Thrawn pushed himself up. “How?” He asked, fingers going to the clasps that kept Eli’s white pants closed, smirking at the full-body shudder, the way Eli’s cock pulsed beneath layers of fabric.

Eli considered. He thought about the way his younger self would have expected it, before he knew what he knew now, both about the man before him, laid bare, and about the person he’d become, no longer at odds with the quirks and shortcomings he thought would always hinder him. 

“Give me those pillows,” He said, gesturing to the excess of them, the bed made up almost absurdly considering how minimalist Thrawn was. “I take it you didn’t get a say in the decor,” He quipped.

“I live in a palace, as you said. They have people.”

Eli laughed, rising up on his knees, pants undone and creeping south by gravity alone. “Palace grounds,” He teased back, tucking the pillows against the small of his back. Thrawn’s eyes widened before they dimmed in realization. Eli’s lips twitched up, watching the way his throat bobbed and his posture relaxed a little. “Like this?” He asked, searching his gaze for any reservations.

Thrawn blinked at him, obviously running the logistics. “You have done everything,” He said, letting Eli extrapolate the rest.

“I have not, but if you’d rather-”

“No,” The Chiss interrupted, cheeks stained dark, eyes half lidded, diverted. “Give me-”

Eli put the bottle behind him, out of Thrawn’s reach. He leaned forward, took Thrawn by the chin, the entire expanse of his palm and fingers to cradle his jaw. This kiss was like the first, like laying a claim, demanding purchase. “That isn’t how I do things,” He said, and it was his command voice, the one he’d use to tell his crew to execute a maneuver or a Sky-walker to make the jump to lightspeed. “If you’d rather this be the other way around, I’m fine with that-” That could have meant so many things, but Thrawn would get it, he hoped, “But if you want it like this, if you’ll let me, I don’t want to take my hands off you for a second.”

He knew how he looked, practically panting, clothes falling off. And yet. Thrawn stared at him, wide-eyed. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eli’s undergarments, nudging them lower until his cock sprung free. Eli nudged them to his knees, then rose from the bed to let them sink to the floor. Thrawn didn’t reach for the lube. He reclined, fisting his cock in his hands, eyes watching the heatmap that was Eli’s body, like a map pointing lower, lower. 

Thrawn licked his lower lip in a decidedly slow move that had Eli swearing. “That’s unfair.”

Thrawn gestured to him. “By my estimation, you are the one who has only just now decided to undress. Hardly fair from my position.”

“Unbelievable,” Eli groused, retrieving the lubricant, warming what he poured out with his hands. “Tell me if it’s too much?”

“You’ll know,” Thrawn assured him, exhaling as Eli began. The intrusion was strange to start, and Eli went slower than he probably could have, but he’d rather not ruin what hadn’t actually started, regardless of what the lack of blood flow to his brain suggested. “But I’ll tell you,” He said, softer, hips rolling, cock curved up toward his belly, dripping in renewed interest, a gradient of twilight against perfect blue. 

As it was, Eli didn’t have to worry, because as he opened Thrawn up, so too did his tongue loosen. He told Eli when he wanted more - and he wanted. Eli scissored his fingers carefully, overzealous with lube. All in all, it was loud, and not because the Chiss beneath him was writhing as he demanded more than the three fingers Eli had worked him up to. It would be a stretch, but Eli doubted Thrawn would let him go to four without similarly insisting Eli fuck him already. 

He wouldn’t let Thrawn beg. Eli was pretty sure he would, given what he’d seen already, but that wasn’t the point. He pulled his fingers out and Thrawn’s right hand grabbed his wrist, the other fisted in the sheets.

“I know,” Eli said from above him, pressing a salacious kiss against his pulsepoint. His voice sounded indulgent, in control. It wouldn’t in the next ten seconds. He raised his eyebrows at the way Thrawn’s legs splayed wider. Those glittering red eyes were blown as wide as his own, lust glazed, but still predator-sharp.

And here it was: this thing Eli Vanto had never thought he’d have the right to have. And, above it all, it was Eli, being trusted with this, with the most valuable weapon in Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s disposal: himself. His mind at its root, the sensations being fed into it. What happened now was at Eli’s discretion, at Eli’s whim. He could see Thrawn getting lost in it.

“Don’t look away from me,” He said, pushing into Thrawn as slowly as he could manage.

Thrawn fought it, Eli watched with a clenched jaw - desperately trying not to snap his hips forward - as the Chiss controlled his breathing, refusing to let himself get swept away by the intrusion, by the way Eli’s length stretched him full, the warm grind that made him want to lose himself. His eyes wanted to roll back. Eli knew the feeling. He leaned forward, the difference in their height a little awkward with Eli kneeling between his legs, but Eli had plans for that. 

He brushed a sweaty lock of blue-black hair from Thrawn’s forehead, waiting for his lover’s approval to pull back and do it again, busying himself with trailing touches across Thrawn’s face, earning a devious nip and a clench that made him hiss in the process. Thrawn pushed himself up on his elbows, giving him a biting kiss, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Move,” Thrawn snapped, wound tight. Eli did, drew back half way - and fuck did that feel good. The best. Indescribable. Everything he’d never known he wanted. _“Please.”_

Eli grunted, willing himself not to lose his cool, not to come until Thrawn was close enough to send spiraling back over the edge himself. It didn’t seem like either of them would last, Thrawn scrabbling at the sheets until Eli guided his hands to his hips, and Thrawn took the initiative, sliding them back to his ass and holding on. 

“You don’t have to be gentle,” Eli warned him, panting a little. “Fuck, I wanna-”

“Do it,” Thrawn hissed, agreeing before Eli could finish. His grip went from a gentle knead to a vice grip. 

“Yeah,” He said, removing his hands from where they’d settled on Thrawn’s chest to the backs of his thighs. Eli pushed forward shifting Thrawn’s legs back, folding his knees. “How’s this?” He asked, even as he felt his rhythm stuttering.

Thrawn’s fingernails were blunt, but that didn’t matter for how hard he clawed at Eli’s back in lieu of responding, making Eli cry out and snap his hips hard. Thrawn looked smug, or he did - at least until Eli pulled back, rolled his hips, adjusted the angle, and fucked into him again.

His name left Thrawn’s mouth in a strangled keen, and Thrawn’s nostrils flared as his body tried to wade through the overwhelming pleasure from that, admittedly brilliant form of stimulation. Eli returned a rather familiar smug expression and raised his eyebrows. 

So Thrawn clenched around him. Eli swore.

Okay, Eli swore, but he was smiling like an idiot. He knew it. He didn’t care. He kept the angle as it was, glancing thrusts that didn’t overstimulate his partner’s prostate, cocked his head, fixed Thrawn with a very knowing, very deadpan look before he telegraphed the motion: licking a stripe up his hand before wrapping that hand around Thrawn’s cock.

Thrawn’s second orgasm came as he’d pulled Eli’s hand away from his length to get him closer. Eli gasped into it, already close, but the moment Thrawn realized his length pressed between both their abdomens, one sweat drenched and the other slick with pre-come, it was over. He arched against Eli who gave up trying to hold himself above Thrawn, sinking down to his lips in what was probably the clumsiest kiss of his life, considering he was unable to resist coming with Thrawn clenching so tightly around him. Either way, their uncoordinated tangle was enough to keep one - or both of them, if he was being honest with himself - from being heard by anyone who had made a light night of the banquet, after all. 

A large hand came up to the back of his neck, threaded up through his hair. Still at first, then stroking gently. Eli sighed into the crook of Thrawn’s neck, having retreated there when breathing became necessary.

“Satisfied?” Thrawn asked him.

“For now,” He said, recalling his earlier words, their intent. No doubt Thrawn did, too. “You?”

“For now,” He agreed. 

They stayed that way a moment more, until the awkwardness of post-coital activity decided for them that a shower was in order. It was strange in the way that reunions were, hesitation that faded as quickly as it had crept in, and earnest in that way that made time feel stationary, while around them it seemed to move twice as fast.

By the time they returned to the bed, the sky was streaked with the lavender-orange of sunrise, and they reclined together against the pillows instead of tucking themselves beneath the blankets, Eli wrapped in a tunic three sizes too big while the tiny cleanser in the fresher made his uniform pressed and presentable. The time for sleeping had passed, but Eli had lost entire nights to far less rewarding endeavors. 

»»——⍟——««

Mina found them before the firstmeal, caught up in a rather spirited discussion of naval tactics and Eli’s preferred combat formations on the garden terrace where she and Thrawn normally took tea. They had moved their chairs closer together, heads bowed over Eli’s datapad, a schematic projected between them. She recognized the formation from the tactical. It was the plan that had been enacted days earlier to protect Yalu. 

“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes,” She said, her smile bright.

They looked up, their conversation switching from the Chiss tongue to Basic seamlessly. Thrawn waved her over, gesturing at a chair, and Eli smiled. 

They would finish their negotiations with the Ascendancy and Thrawn would leave this world behind. She would be sad to see him go. But he would be with his people and with Eli Vanto, and she knew that was most definitely where he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
